Jul. 03, 2003 - 2:17 p.m.
The crap piles up over time. That's the catch with aging. No one lets you in on that fact. The freedom disappears slowly, slinking out the back door. And pride introduces responsibility without warning you that it will eventually bring it's children, burn out and unreasonable expectations, with it.
I thought the responsibility would be a weapon I could use to fight the boredom, but I'm afraid the remedy is almost as bad as the cure.
I'm just too fucking lazy and uninspired to commit to anything for more than a brief rendezvous. Everything becomes mundane given enough time. Passion will always fade. It takes an excessive amount of energy to burn brightly, and I am just a spiritually sick girl with a chronic energy deficiency.
I'm just tired of floating through space and time, unanchored without the answers I so desperately need. It would help my focus if there were answers at the end or a goal to this journey.
But despite my beliefs, there seems to be nothing meaningful but what I create in my imagination. Is that all there is to this endless tumble through space and time? My simplistic value judgments?
I am overwhelmed by the need to find the why, and I am nowhere near closer to achieving some answers then I was when I was lost in the mire of unexamined lives.
I know that if I allow myself to drown in the physical sensations and altered states available that there is some happiness derived, but I also know that that state is an illusion, and despite the cravings for happiness that make me ache, I really just want the truth.
Is that so much to ask?
