I hate me and you are the reason why…

It feels like this is the common thought process here in today’s world.  We are all unhappy and it seems to be everyone else’s fault… Well unfortunately it’s only your fault.  Good luck getting someone else to give a shit about your unhappiness.  They have enough of their own problems to worry about.  You’re gonna need to figure it out, I know I still need to master this one, so in no way am I saying that I am better.  But I also know I need to stop drinking and actually do something with my life and make some shit happen.  I have the artistic ability of a atom bomb and the ability of application of a brick.

There is no such thing as time.  It’s all an illusion and circumstantial to the things around you and what you are going though.  This is a matter of opening your mind and understanding that there is no Future and no Past.  To say there is such a thing is to say it still exists.  If it did, I would be here right now and by the definition of the word that is not possible.  To exist is to be alive and here… the past is gone and the future is yet to come.

The say that Anxiety is hyper-focusing on the future and depression is hyper-focusing on the past.  and with that I have been diagnosed with both… oh boy you can imagine the inner turmoil and civil unrest that courses through my veins every waking moment.  So no I am not trying to give you the reader some half witted advice for the back of a book buried deep in the “no one will ever read this shit” section of the book store.  It’s simply me expressing my thoughts and own realizations and comparing them to the world around me.

As I am sitting here witting this I am staring at the tropical flowers I bought my Lady Friend (21st century code for Girl Friend).  These flowers came from some where, this we all know.  And up until this very moment I neither cared nor was I concerned with that thought.  But looking at them now.  They came from somewhere in time,  I could say from a location but that is not relevant because that place is no longer existent.  The physical place is still there, but that moment when these flowers grew, that place is gone.  Part of that place is now sitting right in front of me… and hopefully these damn things didn’t bring some sort of Ebola with them.  Realistically they were grown in an artificial environment 20 miles from me; but I prefer to think that they came from some tropical island far far away where the farmer was stoned and possibly had a parrot on his shoulder and maybe even had to fight a tiger to get to my flowers because they would have been deep in the jungle.  But, they came from down the street…

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