Holy Jesus, dear reader…wicked case of the running, screaming existential fantods today. Survivor’s guilt coupled with the standard questions of mortality one faces when one looks around and notices rather a lot of people from ones past are now rather dead.
Some days I truly do miss drugs, and this, understanding reader, is just such a day. A nice big bag of drugs would go a long way to change this mood I seem to be stuck in today.
Okay, fuck it…what I’m really wrestling with (and losing to) is the futility and pointlessness of everything. Going through the belongings of the recently deceased, one sees all the attempts at various things a person made during their lives, their successes and failures…and, given the context, it all just seems so futile, regardless of what they may have achieved during their lifetimes.
I really miss drugs.
N.P.: “Goodbye Horses” – ††† (Crosses)