Choice. To choose love. To choose pleasure.
I feel empty. I feel the need to fill myself up with pleasures that are empty just to fill the space. To fill the time. Every day there is an overwhelming responsibility to do, to accomplish, to succeed. And I am stuck in the middle of avoidance and reality. I wish I could take a step back and breathe.
The realization is that I could. I could be here, be present, be myself. But then something else comes along, and I feel the need to fill this hole I have inside me. I must consume. I must feel.
But all of these feelings are cheap. They are meaningless. They are not satisfying. I want to smoke, to drink, to eat, to fuck.
But in the end, I feel empty. But full in the sense that I have consumed every once my being can muster until exhaustion and all desires has drained out of me. Until I am left unhappy and unsatisfied.
I want to wake up.
I’ve been running. And at moments I can trick myself into believing that I am running towards. That I am going towards a goal, an experience. But I am running away. What am I running from? Responsibility, fear, failure? All of those are true. I suppose I can’t determine what I want. Happiness is such an obscure concept. What is happiness?
I have a headache.
It is time to move forward, but how do I do that? Maybe I move forward every day, but it feels like I am just running in circles.
I no longer feel that I am spiraling out of control, but this is sustainable. Do I want sustainability? At what cost?
Thank you for reading. I hope to get back into writing again more.