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My eyes are bleeding out the back of my skull and I’m feeling drowsy.
My motivation is at an all time low and yet I’m somehow declared fit enough to work regardless.
It’s dark and it’s late, and I’m slumbered in an abyss of shadow and dust.
It’s quiet, and it’s lonesome; ambient, and warming.
The winds are shy tonight, a little less frequent than most evenings for sure; and yet sharp enough to cut glass from a single bite through the window beside me.
The everlasting police sirens echo between the faraway lampposts and landscapes; rushing through oceans of optimistic city folk clutching on to their last moments of youth and borrowed happiness.
The world mostly sleeps whilst I sit here in this moment; all tucked away in tiny cotton beds; dreaming dreams and helplessly ambivalent of what tomorrow may entail.
I am tired, and I wish I could only join those of which sleep; but I simply cannot.
I’m sitting here with a coffee mug in my left hand and a keyboard in my right, staring at words as if they were hieroglyphs.
I’m thinking of tomorrow and forgetting today; pretending as if each passing moment is nothing but a grain of sand falling through an hourglass with no bottom.
I’ll sit here, and I’ll drink.
I’ll talk aimlessly now and regret everything I publish; but that’s just a part of life.
In order for me to feel productive and sleep peacefully, I must first do something that resembles hard work in one way or another.
I’m a pessimist and a corpse of modern society, always wondering whether I’m doing enough to contribute towards anything worth living for.
My anxiety rests upon my shoulder like a foul odor, urging me to make something of myself before it’s too late.
Before I turn old and grey I must first learn to build and create a future.
Forgetting my mistakes of yesterday, I must advance towards the opportunity of tomorrow's horizon.
I as a person have never had much of voice outside the comfort of a blank word document and a mind full of gibberish and bollocks, and for that reason alone I do not settle well with modern cliques.
We live in a cruel world of plastic women and blokes made of rubber, and no matter where you walk there’s always someone ready to tread on your toes willingly.
Our current world and generation thrive off of making others self-destruct, and that really makes me sick both physically and mentally.
Relationships are nothing but childish games pending, and it seems that no matter the bond they’ll always be another round to play.
Everyone lies, everyone cheats, and everyone makes the same mistakes over and over again until they realize it’s too late to make a change.
The older ways of socializing through our emotions is long gone, and somewhere along the way an emoji counted for more than an actual physical expression.
The sincerity of a pokey out tongue face is considered flirting in today's society, and it only makes me cringe knowing how that will evolve in ten years time.
Before long nobody will have voices, and everyone will be living through the avatar of a virtual reality.
Nobody will understand social situations and only rely on digital networking for communicating with the other robots of this world.
We’re all pushing towards a future of living life as a code; wrapped up inside a machine and encased within a locked sever room with no key.
Nobody will do anything about it, that’s just the way it is.
It seems kind of sad that our world is falling apart and nobody really gives a shit.
We’re all so drunk on social media and too busy injecting ourselves with ego boosts and selfie likes to care about the outside world and what’s it’s doing.
We’re all brainwashed and living in a corrupt world engulfed with lies and a government willing to sacrifice the weak minded for a few pennies of pocket change.
Whilst the world continues to make total destroy, most of us choose to ignore it and pretend not to be the solution, but the problem.
We sit on our phones for 90 percent of the day, scrolling endlessly over things that mean very little, all whilst the things that are most important to us are sitting right in front of us.
Wives, children, nature – it’s all there, screaming for our attention and affection, but we ignore it every day.
The sad truth is we can’t seem to help it, and soon enough we’ll all lose everything and it’ll be too late.
The moment my phone dies I’ll look up and not see a patient wife and smiling daughter, but an empty room that’s as quiet as it is in this very moment.
They won’t be sleeping, waiting for me to crawl back to bed – they’ll be gone; tired of waiting for me just to look up once in a while.
I’m guilty of it, and I know you are too.
Life is incredibly short and passing by faster than any of us could have ever imagined.
I could have sworn I only left school a couple of years ago, but even that is becoming nothing but a distant dream, pushing almost a decade now.
I can’t say I fear death, but I do fear growing old and tired.
I fear not being able to tie my own shoelace without needing the assistance of my daughter.
I fear I may forget my entire past and everything I might have done along the way; petrified that all I have left is the small future and the call of a reapers scythe.
That’s what I worry about.
They say the only thing you really leave behind is your legacy.
I guess to me that’s why I have to try and produce something worth leaving behind one day.
Books, poetry, mementos; it all has to mean something, right?
Otherwise what’s the point?
Choosing not to borrow happiness from the aroma of a tacky nightclub every Friday night I’d rather keep it forever through the alternatives.
My wife, my daughter; both muses that inspire me every single day.
That’s why I’m here, still awake right now.
I hope to leave behind something that they can one day be proud of, even if it is just a dusty old box of letters and half-finished stories.
I’m writing this and hoping for it to mean something, but it probably won’t.
This is just another one of those stupid rants that has no meaning nor end.
This is just some late night talk you can read and take what you want from.
I’m not offering any sort of moral or life advice, but more a talk in hope you can understand me a little better.
This’ll mean something to someone, maybe.
I could keep writing and go on about a million other things on my mind, but we’d be here all night.
Books, politics, art, film, philosophy; it’s all there, swimming through my brain like a poison eager to get out.
But maybe for another time I guess.
It’s late, and I can hear the birds tweeting.
I’ll wake myself up and embrace the new day calling.
I better get the kettle on I guess.