For everyone there’s a moment. A moment that determines if you are truly happy that you’re alive, or completely distraught at the thought of being still alive. For there are moments in everyone’s life that questions our existence.
Why did I wake up? What does today have in store for me? Why get out of bed for the same job? Why wake up just to repeat yesterday?
Wake up, eat, traffic, work, rage about trending topics, take pictures, Instagram how cool life is, show how happy you are, drink coffee at Starbucks, meet a friend for dinner at a fancy eatery, take more pictures, smile, smile, smile for the camera. Go home. You’re probably alone in a big city, or probably alone in a home surrounded by family. Watch something. Do you want to watch something? Something to make you feel better? Does it make you feel better?
Are you tired now? Is it time to sleep now? Do you turn your lights out and lie on your bed, alone, awake, staring at the blackness? Do you feel disappointed that another day went by just the same as yesterday? Do you fear tomorrow you will wake up, eat, rage, take more Instagrams, hang out with friends, come back home, stare at the blackness and eventually fall asleep. disillusioned?
This is life. Life as a robot, life as a zombie. Normal life. Life where we feel better when we buy something for ourselves. Happiness is recieving an Amazon package. But what happens after? After the fact? After we get what we want? Do we really ever get what we want? Because our wants gets replaced, doesn’t it.
Today I am tired. Dead tired. Dead. The living dead. I want to know what this life is, why we are here, what’s our purpose?
We cannot expect Facebook and Twitter and Instagrams to be our time capsules. When we look back, it’s all the same. Every single day the same story.
Can we not change our stories? Can’t we start today?
Start a project that we love and take it higher. Make it your own Death Star if you will.
I did. I started my two projects- Hope is Good and Binge Squad. And they make me happy.
But today I am tired because it is exhausting to gather support for anything done from the heart. People, when you know them closely, are not so happy when they see others happy.
I’m also tired because I need a break. I feel so weak, mentally, that I cannot even function anymore. I want to read a book but I can’t. I want to write but the words are so scattered. I want to watch a show but my mind wanders off.
My bipolar disorder isn’t making my life easy either. I am going through the worst phase of depression and there’s really not much the medicines can do, except control the least bit of it.
I want to do so much. I need to do so much. I need so much to happen but I am out of patience. I need a good news. One good news, I pray. Something to keep me going. Something that gives heart back to my zombie self.
I need a miracle.
This post doesn’t make any sense, it doesn’t need to.