Control: Life Runs

Life runs like a motherfucker, never stopping, never allowing itself to stop. Life moves like a freight train, never ceasing, never permitting itself to cease. I sat in my room for a week. I took my meds but they didn’t seem to help. They took a week to procure my meds, so I spent a week ranting to myself in my room. The room ceased to be at a point and became a metaphorical podium from which I ranted at life.

“I was framed,” I say. “I was framed. I was murdered for fourteen thousand years.” Then I scream it, a plea. “I was framed.”

But it isn’t real — none of it is real. I didn’t get framed for fourteen thousand years. It is still 2017. None of it is real.

I continue without any more paranoia. The voices are mostly gone now, and the world has slowed to a gentle walk.

I hate life sometimes. Life runs at you even when it seems slow. Thirty-nine years have flown by. I don’t know how many years I have left.

I get so bored now without the voices. I get so bored without a debilitating mental illness ruining my life.

Why? Why get bored? There are so many interesting aspects to the world. There are amusement parks, walks in the forest. video games, sports, esports, television and movies, and books. Books can be an entire section by themselves, for they transport one to another time and place.

The pace of the world is fast. Still, reading matters. Paying attention to the world matters. Trying to succeed in life matters. I think that no one can fail if they try their hardest. That is an automatic win.

Thanks, and take care, friends.