June 14, 2017
I feel like I’m swimming around in a sea of meaninglessness searching for love— hoping for hope.
Seeing only problems and blind to the solutions buried there within.
Blaming medication (purchased for the cure) for my lack of motivation and dissipation of enthusiasm.
Is this exercise in poetic whining worth it? Or does it worst it?
Does searching for just the right word bring a momentary meaning to our meaninglessness searching lives?
This exercise could be good, this exercise could be a waste of time.
This time spent grinding the mental spiritual wheels of introspection is like smoke and mirrors. sitting-thinking searching–writing is not the ultimate point or purpose of my life. Or is it?
If not?, Then what is!
For here I am after spending 25 or 30 minutes of life, right back where I was to begin with:
I feel like I’m swimming around in a sea of meaninglessness searching for love hoping for hope.