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Past a certain hour, the world automatically becomes very dreary for me. Things become hostile, but not interesting. Very still, but with the absolute worst intentions. I hate this about the world. Maybe it isn't meant to be like this and maybe it's just the way I perceive it, but it's constantly looming in the back of my mind.



When I feel good about something, I find that I always assume the absolute worst possible thing is going to happen next. I do not lead a bad life and I am not constantly surrounded by bad people, so what has caused this in me? I couldn't tell you. I'm so tired of trying to figure it out.



Since my life changed so violently, I've only felt things in an apathetic regard, or in an absolutely manic regard. I don't really understand that either. Maybe I'm scared to become attached, but certain things simply transcend that fear and betray the little barrier I've put into place. Then again, the only time I'm really ever outwardly emotional anymore is when I'm stoned, so it doesn't matter to anybody.



I feel myself becoming distant from all I've ever known. At times I don't really think about it, but it never really seems to get any better. Our interactions haven't changed much, but when I'm near everyone, I don't really take a lot of joy in it. Much of the time, I'm waiting for it to be over, so that I can be alone again.



Despite feeling so lonesome at times, I find that being around people I don't know is oddly comforting. But I think the reason it eases my mind is because I know that nobody has any interest in talking to me. So I can just stand there with my hands in my pockets, thinking about my next step, while everyone watches me pass by without really considering why I may be where they are.



I don't really know if I still crave some sort of direction. I'm unemployed right now, and the thought of returning to my old job makes me feel ill. I'd rather be broke than get stuck in that place again. Nobody wanted me there and I didn't want to be there. It all works out. All I have to do is continue accepting all of this distance that's popping up in my life, and soon enough, I won't know enough about myself to hate myself anymore.



I like living this way right now. Waking up when I feel like, going here or there while I pretend to look for another job, dreaming of my life coming together in some magical way like they always do in the movies. But I think I'm destined to live in this sad state of drift for a while. Maybe I'll get another job, and maybe I won't. I have enough savings to last me a while, and I really don't have anything that I need to be saving for. Right now, there's nowhere I need to be. There's something beautiful about that, and something so tragic.



I used to thrive on love and affection, and without it I would slowly come undone. But I had never really reached the point of desperation when it came to being out of a relationship. I think I've already been through it. I felt things in such a violent and unstable way, and now I hardly feel anything at all unless I'm caught off-guard. It sounds unhealthy, but is it? The world is a stupid, complicated place. The stress that breeds from all of the bull shit we throw at each other does terrible things to our mind and body. What do I have to worry about now? Who do I have to think about and look after? All I've got is me. I still don't really care for myself, but I don't hate myself so much either. Maybe I'm just learning to accept that I'll never be what I was told I'd be.



All things are supposed to fall into place at some point. Within my mind, I will hear a click, and cogs I was never made aware of will begin to turn at a breakneck pace. All possibilities will present themselves to me, and I will know exactly which ones to pursue and why. I will know what to do to make sense out of my entire life, and I will never look back. I will finally be happy, lose my sense of self-doubt and self-loathing, and learn that this was what I was supposed to be doing all along. This is what I've been told.



Love is funny and kind of sinister. I miss it, but at the same time, I don't need it making me stupid again. I don't need it making all of my decisions for me, and I don't need it to mask all of my other problems that are in such dire need of solving. On my bad days, I find myself clinging to memories of it. On worse days than that, I fantasize endlessly about my next experience of love. On good days, I remember what love can do to you, and I regain my composure and indulge in my new-found patience. Once you know, and once you escape long enough, it's hard to really accept that it's something that human beings need. It's just fluff, like everything else in our day to day lives, and we've given it the kind of power that dictators are made of.



I sound so bitter and unhappy. But I'm really not. I wish my former the absolute best from the bottom of my heart. I hope that all of the people that I know find happiness through love, and that they never see it the way that I do. Maybe I don't even really see it this way. But it seems like I do now. I don't think of myself as a lost cause, but I've given way to the cold. I like the chill of it, the feel of it, the lack of heat and the need to learn how to persevere. I was so weak before in so many ways, and I suppose after waking up, I tired of it very quickly. I'm tired of fighting for things that may not even be there, and so it may be time to move on forever.



I told myself that I would change, somehow for the better. Perhaps that change could be leaving everything behind and forgetting what used to matter, to make room for things that matter now. Life is always changing, just as people are always changing. But life has no plans, and people live through plans. I don't really care for plans anymore.



My head is always hurting these days.