The thing is that nobody gives a fuck about what you say or do.
And does not matter how hard you try, nobody is gonna be there for you.
So my tip is go as fast as you can, try to fix or tear apart everything, but do something.
And carry on.
Drink. Fuck. Smoke. Dream. Make. Whatever.
Just don’t waste your time on something that probably will go to waste after some mistakes.
And its all about how strong you can be, and after some time, will be how hard can you protect someone.
But in the end, trust me, nobody’s gonna care.
And tonight, there’s no one to save my soul.
And I tell you, I don’t care at all.
Its numb, but well, I deserve hell. Sure I do.
Because peace sounds like something so far, and Im so fucked up that none of this matters. Not my job nor all those thoughts in my head. And I’m ok with that, because I don’t see other ways. Its nice to get a life simple as that. When you’re made to go trough every shit that no one’s ever had the guts to do or say.
And by the end of the day, you will die a couple of hours in your sleep but you will still be tired.
You will suddenly wake up and face the world once again. There’s no rest on that. There’s not even a single spark of peace. But you smile. You’re good at that. And you rise again, and fight again.
And no one will care, and no one will have time.
And you go. Wear your leather jacket, smash some faces, drink some bottles of scotch and call it a day. Hook up with someone who does not give a shit about who you are and what you will do in the morning after, and carry on. It should be easier for turning off the humanity in you. Like some old rock n’ roll song or some shitty poetry. Like that thing that I am writing right now. I just feel so fucking lost and disconnected from everything and yet so attached to some things that sometimes I try to negate the reality that Im getting old. That I crumble with the fear that Im not feeling alive no matter how hard I try to.
Live a miserable life, because that’s what you have left.
I guess I am tired of thinking that maybe something will eventually be alright, and I am losing my hope over here. I feel free, and I am just fucking tired of all this. I am tired, and I want to sleep. I am tired of trying to fix everything, and to do good to people that does not even care about what I am trying to do. I am really tired of everything and I really want to know what should I do.
But I guess that everyone carry some sort of shitty thing inside its heart, doesn’t?
I guess this morning I woke up and finally perceived that… I became a wreck.
And that’s good, because the world needs people like me. Who comes and goes and do the necessary things to make it happen and then leave in exile, without any expectatives of things getting better because they are so fucked up.
And in texts your depression and quotes are beautiful. And in sad pictures and in those persons who cut themselves and put pictures here its something amazing and inspiring. And maybe, even the break-up songs, and the empty bottles, and the cigarrettes or even the numb-drunk-walks after midnight at some shitty party or lost souls may be something to talk about and be proud of, but in the reality, we are all numb. We are all fucking lost and seeking for a moment of redemption. May be trough love, hope, God itself or an answer for those questions in your head. And you may lost yourself in that search. And tomorrow may not come anymore because you stuck a bullet in your head, and that’s life. Happens all the time, and you may ask yourself where’s your mind, like The Pixies.
That’s how it happen. All the time. In every corner, in every empty bottle and glass that you see after a long night at some junk party. Look at their eyes. Look at how numb we became that we try so hard to leave your bodies and turn off our existence for just a tiny little bit of time. Just to see if we can bear that pain that is to have nothing to support us. That we, broken ones, are wild beings that belongs to nowhere. That this is our freedom and our curse. To wake up everyday and know that nobody gives a fuck. To know that we can change things, and ourselves, and yet there’s a hole in our personality, and its so real that you can feel it in your chest. And all people do is talk, and that, if they have the courage for do so… because I guess in those days, people have fear to even feel something. They fear to feel, and that scares the shit out of me.
And tomorrow I will smile. And tomorrow I will work. And if my friends asks if Im ok, then I will say that Im ok. And I will keep calm and carry on, because that’s what all those little fuckers do, right?
But I guess that’s ok.
Because in the end of all that, nobody will ever care, and there’s will be probably an joke for all this shit. And that is what it is. A joke, in the semiotic eyes of sarcasm.
And I will sleep tonight, and in my sleep I will just hope that I will be in a better place.
And tomorrow I will seek a better way. And I will be stronger than all these things that overwhelms me.
I will be better than my nightmares, and I will face my fear.
And I no longer will be there, but no one will care, and I will not too.
I will make my way, and I don’t even know to where, but I will.
But tonight… tonight I gonna sleep.
|—||The Scientist writes a letter to nobody - Vinícius S. Souza|