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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

everything just got over me

I'm sure in the grand scheme of things, my depression and as of yet undiagnosed neurosis are small potatoes compared to the suffering that is going on in other parts of the world.

But I can't even think past what I will be doing in 15 minutes, let alone the loss of countrymen, civilian lives and other pieces of humanity in general.

My theory is that despite all of our wishes, hopes and dreams....humans are locusts with brains. We consume, build, destroy and paint ourselves into corners. We do this knowingly, if you believe the environmentalists. Or we do it unknowingly, if you believe all those proud Americans for all the wars they actually had no business starting or being involved with.

My theory is finite. We don't have a sustainable future. As a race, humans aren't meant to perservere. This whole earth thing, as in planet earth is a one shot deal. Unlike Sim City, we don't get to start over. We think too much, and we don't think enough. We act too quickly and do not make up for the damage we've done to anything we've touched.

The only thing I can think of that even remotely interests me in life, is art. And trust me when I say that it's only a matter of time before that's soiled with the leaking parts of my radioactive brain. Love? you ask. I don't have any faith in it. I think it's for certain kinds of people, and I just happen to be the other kind. I'm not a girl that gets to have love.

It's with those thoughts, that I ponder the usefullness of my own existence. A friend tells me that we have no other option but to keep slogging through the mess we've made of our lives. But, somewhere inside of me, I know that it's only a matter of time before there are no more words from me, and I am underwater.

The past few days have been bad. I've had worse, but I can feel myself sinking below the water line, and knowing there isn't really anything or anyone that can thrown me a life saver. And really, who cares anyway?

The Fine Art of Falling Apart - The Matthew Good Band

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