Catch the Deluge in a Papercup

The eloquence is only a suspension of the reality; the pretension, and effort to glamorize the soul-crushing knowledge of not being able to do better, or perhaps more simply; it’s just the glorification of the existential crisis.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I generally like it that way, except on the days that I don’t, which occur more often than not.

But did I mention that I generally like it that way?

The problem does not lie in the unknown, but instead the known. Obviously, the things I am unaware of, have no relevance on my present, but the things I know, plow me down with an unnatural force. Yet, for some reason, instead of using the power of self-perseverance, I continue to ignore the known and continue on seeking the unknown as though the known was unknown. At the end of the day, I ignore the simplest answer to find a more complicated one.

At the end of the day, I just need to accept that I’m not going to be happy living my life as others would have me live it. I seek the unknown; this much I am aware of. But rather than seeking it vicariously, I would much rather experience it; no matter the pain and hardship I might face. Experience is the ultimate understanding.

I’m not the girl who wants to tour museums. I’m the girl who wants to sleep on a park bench.

Or maybe I’m the girl who wants to do both. But the fear is keeping me from doing it.

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