Journal #331

It’s frustrating.

It’s depressing.

It’s one of those days when you felt like you sucked at everything, no matter how hard you try. You started overthinking, keep beating yourself up…

You wanted to go somewhere, far away from civilization, so that you can heal your soul. But you realized the place you lived in has too much civilization not enough nature. The trees planted are all artificially curated by some faceless bipedal animal under the instructions of some other faceless bipedal animal.

The thought of natives uprooted by said bipedal animals crushed your soul. Your heart cried. You cried.

You watch the news, you saw felines bleeding, crushed or ruined by said bipedal animals. You wondered how could anyone be so cruel.

You go to work and see all these bipedal animals, roaming about trying to go by their days, solving other people’s problem in exchange for money so that they can solve their own problems. Your bosses breathe down on your neck. Your colleagues put you down and play games to win. You are on the receiving end. You wondered what’s the point of all that.

You go home and drown yourself in games, movies, and books to escape. Yet you are reminded again what you are doing now is useless and worthless. They don’t help you achieve anything in your professional life.

Soon, you are left wondering what’s the point of life if not just to struggle every minute, every hour, and every day until the day you are drawing your last breath. You realized you have not change the world in any meaningful way. But it’s too late. You are either six feet under or become ashes and be scattered to the winds.

One thought on “Journal #331

  1. Some of these thoughts echo mine some days. Are you familiar with Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus? Your last paragraph reminded me of that. Sometimes it all feels meaningless, but I recall Sisyphus and am reminded maybe meaning is ours to create, even meaning in struggle.

    “His fate belongs to him. His rock is his thing.” 🙂

Comments are closed.