It seems to me that some people take a lot of trouble just to make themselves unhappy. Make that a lot of people. Has our world become so screwed up that being depressed is normal? Why is it that they want to concentrate on the things that make them upset?
We've changed into a generation of masochists. Maybe it's because we live in such an affluent age. We don't have to hunt for our food. Or worry about shelter. So then we spend time thinking of ways that life isn't good. Then we wonder how we can make it better, and sometimes we can't, or won't, and just don't see the answers. We sit and stare and wonder what life means to us, and pick on the little worries that should mean nothing in the face of the larger troubles. We think of disturbing questions that depress like who am I, and what do I want? What is friendship really? Love isn't an artificial concept, nor is it entirely natural, does it even exist?
Then we pass this on to our friends and everyone sinks deeper and deeper into depression.
I'm tired. I'm bloody tired of people like that. don't get me wrong, I believe it's quite commendable to start focusing on yourself and what a truly unworthy person you are. It's divine that you're worried about the world's problems and how it's just so hopeless. And the way you theorized that everyone is out to get you and life is unfair and just not worth it? Lovely. So what do you do now? Wallow some more? Give up? Or do you just forget about it and move on?
Which is it?
So maybe I'm naive. Maybe I'm blissfully unaware of the more noble aspects of pondering the fate of all humanity and if the good of this world is going down the pipes. You can rail and berate me for being selfish and not caring. You can say that my happiness is spurious and incomplete. Say I’m superficial.
I don’t care. If that’s another reason to fuel your ire, again…I don't care. Who's being delusional here? You or me? I believe in my own happiness, I believe in concentrating in things that achieve this. I believe if that it's not really important, it doesn't matter. You can believe that there are things bigger than yourself, things that require your attention, your consideration. You believe that little things matter because you believe they build up. You worry about other people and read deeply between the lines so you don't miss anything.
We can rail at each forever, and try to change each other's thoughts, but I ask, why? Are you really right? Am I wrong? How do you tell?
If those questions don't stop you from bugging me, I think nothing will. If you ever find whatever you're looking for, tell me, and I'll be happy for you, and we can finally both be happy.
On a lighter note, I painted my toe nails pearly white.
