Originally uploaded by lorenzodom
Sometimes, I think I know where I’m going.
Sometimes, I believe I know what I’m doing.
But often, lately, I’m not so sure.
I quit sex, drugs, alcohol, and overeating for a day, last week.
It was one of the most tiresome days of my life of late.
I realized that being good is not so great, for it is rather tedious and boring.
Alas, I have always had this problem with ennui
and apathy and being purposeless and "good." I constantly
have to make up shit to do, if only to make myself
Maybe its because I feel that life is inherently meaningless.
We fool ourselves into believing otherwise, assigning random importance
to people, places and things we obsessively do, just to console
our otherwise empty souls.
Yesterday, I read, “Only talented people fret mediocrity.”
I’d love to think I’m talented. Shit, I often find myself believing
that I’m really a disregarded genius, a legend in his own mind.
I don’t mind the delusions though. If anything, grandeur is at least
entertaining, it makes time pass faster. And by embracing
my eccentricities, I bide away at life; until, chewing to the core,
I tear away at the outer bore that I was otherwise destined to be,
who I am,