I’ve been doing as told and as should have. I take my medication in the proper amount and on schedule every day since last Saturday. Now, instead of feeling like I’m going crazy, I just sense that somewhere in my head there is my other self pacing and sweating and feeling the familiar pangs in his chest. I’m pretty zombified currently, which is for the best. I am and still have been obsessively looking for that next step in life. I still haven’t found it. It still hasn’t found me. I am the tourist.
I am still restless. Even though I know in the late hour I should sleep, I cannot. So I sit and stare, then walk and stare. Most of the time I don’t allow myself to think during these periods. I am aware at how stressed I will make myself. So I just started writing this blog to get it all out there so maybe I’d feel a bit better about my dead end life.
I am tired of sleeping and waking it now bores me. To do the second and consider the first. I am incapable of feeling gratitude. All desires but of escape have gone. Hunger. Sexual. Knowledge. I just need a way out. Out of myself. A good crack to the head might do it. I’ll walk the streets and who knows maybe the blow will come.
I envy every man who wears a suit to work. I envy every man who has a woman. I envy the dead. I envy all you slave wagers. Indebted college graduates. I envy the inmate fucking his cellmate in the ass just to pass the time. I envy the ants for their zero desire save providing for the Hill. I envy all who have souls. I have nothing in me but the absence of purpose. The winder key has been twisted and my motor keeps running as I clap my simian hands together which brings the cymbals together, and the sound it offers is a minor tink and none the louder like my very life in the void of the world.