I always took things too seriously. I suppose I still do.

What did I have to worry about?  Only the good die young.

And no, of course i’m not better off. Every day is a struggle not to give up hope, not to give in to mindless hours of getting high and blotting out reality. Fuck reality; i’ll take fiction any day … or at least some form of escapism. 

In the end, it’s not worth asking people out.  Too emotionally traumatizing.   If i know someone well enough to maybe want to go out with them, it’s a foregone conclusion that they don’t want to go out with me — otherwise we’d already be involved. 

And all those cliché things lovers tell each other?  I never have to say those cheesy things to another person, ever again! Woo-hoo!

You may be with someone and they get to the end of their life; there may well be no resolution, but just an end. When that person dies, you will have to rediscover meaning in your life without them. It’s difficult.

You’re here for a while, you do some stuff maybe, and then you’re gone. At the end, just like at the beginning, you are the only real audience for what you create. Yours is the only analysis that will matter, that will even really exist. Maybe you wrote stuff or did stuff for your family or friends or teachers or boss or somebody else once upon a time; but eventually they’re not gonna be there, and they’re not going to experience your life anymore. It’s only gonna be you.  And it has to be enough; you can’t go on torturing yourself. 

The end of life is disillusioning.

You go all the way through life, and you end up being all beaten up by it. Not like you had any choice of being born in the first place — it just sort of happened.

Try not to let it get you down.

~

“Don’t take any shit from anybody.

Billy Joel