Argh. I wrote something long and thoughtful, but I'm just too lazy to write it up again. Well, if it'll get me out of studying for psych, I just might...here goes...
People pay a lot of attention to detail these days. And then there are others who pay too much attention to the whole thing. A balance is needed - any balance at all. I think humans have become too complicated for this world, and that's why we're killing ourselves. With so many things to balance, our short-term memories can't hold that much information, and finally we collapse apart, miscommunication and misconception abound. Romance: a piece of writing that takes a nostalgic look at the past when it was easier to distinguish right from wrong. If that is true, isn't that everybody's writing? Who can possibly look with optimism towards the real future, today?
Aaargh. Late night posts are bad. That was just a skim of the entry I wrote before. Maybe sometime else, I'll expand the arguments, or write something lyrical, but right now my brain is fried. I wish my posts weren't so long. I wish I didn't just write and write and let my emotions get out on the paper. I wish I had consideration for others. I wish I had had a lot of things, did a lot of things, could do a lot of things, but I can't. I can't change the world. I can't touch the heart of many people, because I need to save myself first. I can't do anything, really, of significance - Donne is right, we should all die. Dying is an eternal nap. Think of how peaceful that would be.
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Just a note: this isn't my real journal. That is here: http://www.greatestjournal.com/users/anza. Whatever I post here is just links, drabbles, and pointless non sequiturs. Enjoy, and kindly go to hell.
"No-one was saved.
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?"
-Thrice, "Elenor Rigby"
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?"
-Thrice, "Elenor Rigby"