Jealousy soothes rejection with a kiss

What happens when you want to get away from yourself?

I’m feeling this right now. I wish I could just float up out of my body and feel peaceful for a while, without feeling at war with myself. The only problem is that the only solution to this particular problem is death. I don’t want to die. I just want to rest, just for a little while.

I feel like all the hope has been sucked out of the world. I feel like I’m suspended in this vacuum and there will be no happy ending, not for me anyway. Yeah, you can spend your time reading and watching the happy endings. Escapism, is what’s is called. But at the end of the day it’s all just an illusion – a cruel one at that. I’m starting to feel like true love doesn’t exist in this world, that we’re only driven by our hopes and ambitions.

Do you think that things will ever change? Do you think that the world will change? I don’t think so. There will always be war and hunger and chaos. Nothing is ever peaceful – only death. What is the point? Why are we here? I guess that’s a question a lot of people have asked and never found an answer to. I’ve considered all the possibilities. God is one of them. That’s whom everyone turns to. God. When something good happens it was down to God. When something bad happens it was down to God, too. I think we’re just trying to pass the buck to disguise just how animalistic we are. People kill other people, people deceive and hurt people to achieve their own means. I’m not pure, or clean. I don’t claim that for a second. No one is. Everyone has their dirty little secrets, even the people up there on the movie screens or on the television. They all know they’ve done something terrible, unforgivable.

Maybe that’s the way forward. Forgiveness. Maybe we should all turn to each other and let each other know that it’s okay. Whatever you have done, or thought, or planned, it’s okay because we’re all filthy at the end of the day. We’re all unclean. I wish someone would forgive me.

I don’t know why I’m writing this. I think I’m trying to purge these ugly thoughts from my mind. I think I’m trying to get some hope to shine through. Tomorrow will be another day yet it’s just as repetitive. Still my heart will beat and my lungs drag air through me. Still will cells pick up oxygen and deposit carbon dioxide. Still will I move and breathe and worst of all think. Something I do too much of. Thinking. It’s an overrated concept. What’s the point in thinking, anyway? Einstein is still dead. Stephen Hawking is still paralysed, unable to speak by himself. What does that say? There is no mercy, none at all. No one is spared from hurt and pain. No one. No wonder we turn to drugs, or a poison of our choice. No wonder people write novels and make films and television shows that are out of this world. I think even they, sometimes, try to spread some hope. But the one thing we cannot escape is real life. I’m sick of being hurt. But I don’t want this to be about me. It’s about us all. It’s about pain, something we all have in common.