The Same Way

I wonder why i started this blog. It seems a lot like writing on a bathroom wall, or on a desk in a lecture hall, nothing special. Words are cheap. Freedom is the only real expensive commodity. I’ve found myself wandering around at night again, trying to fathom where exactly i am going, and what it is im doing. I walk into a shop and buy some useless things just to feel like i have some purpose. I feel like an impostor at the checkout, so the feeling of purpose does’nt last long. Outside those automatic doors i wonder where i should go next. A lot of life is like this i guess. Wandering around aimlessly, making up purpose and meaning to what we do to justify our busy-ness. How very zen-like.

Been searching on google again to try and find some kind of drug to take away this feeling of despair deep down. Suppressed. Like a brick im holding for no reason other than to call it my own. Im being melo-dramatic again. Did’nt think this blog would be that depressing. But i am depressed, so it makes sense. Trying to be friends with an ex-lover is always hard. The other day i broke off our friendship after seeing her with another one of her ex’s. I felt such relief that day, and it was like the brick had been set down. I was actually happy. Why did i send her that email saying that i still wanted to be friends? Going back on what i said i know would hurt her a lot. She’s too sensitive. She would get over it though i guess. I have to be honest.