On a mediocre level, things are perfect, never been better. And I just can't accept that. I have to look up and see the candy-cane coated level, where everything is perfect. Or I can go to the "gonna OD-throw myself out a window-burn myself at the stake-blow my fucking head off-all-at-once" route and things are so fucking euphoric. So I sit here and elate/depress myself because I can't just take things the way they are. I'm living in contempt between heaven and hell and being a whiney baby about it. But I'm bipolar, so it's okay, right?? Again, just excuses. I'm killing myself in the mediocre of things.
I'm a realist in a fictional world; I have a need for a meaning in everything. Nothing can be simple, backround noise -- no, it just has to mean something. I can't just accept the fact that every leaf that falls from a tree doesn't have a deeper message. I weep too much over the beauty of things, things that just can't mean anything, and I'm wasting my FUCKING time. Every strand of Kira's hair fascinates me. And I know I need to grow up, numb myself to become an efficient, corporate machine. Why can't I seem to escape this child-like enthralment in those details, like his hair? I'm an 19 year old (half) white American male, and I should just grow up and lose my baby hair. I could never leave behind the childlike fascination I have with Kira. I need to grow into a machine to survive.
I was watching Jeopardy tonite. One of the questions was "This Nirvana song contains the lyrics 'And I don't have a gun.' " I sat their shouting "Come As You Are" and was elated/depressed in my superiority over these people who are so much better than I am. And these people are my muses(!) Oh how I love to be part of the corporate machine.