sorry but this is how my brain works

self confessional crap

it’s what i like

sometimes I wonder what the point of writing is. of anything really. i actually contemplate this a lot. and i worry about ever saying stuff like this in public because i’m afraid people will always think i’m very down and out. i’m not. but the more i protest that i’m not, the more i am convinced that people will think that i am down. i simply, in a philosophical sense, don’t see the point.

i see a lot of made up points. i see a lot of people doing what they think they’re supposed to be doing with their time on this planet, but me? i don’t get it.

there aren’t many people i can say this stuff to because — again — people will always want to rush in and try to save me. they think i need saving, whatever that means. i’m not depressed. i just don’t get it. maybe i am depressed? i don’t think i am. i think i’m just in a philosophical conundrum.

i know i’m supposed to be doing something with my life, but i don’t have a clue what it is. i honestly don’t. seriously. like, you know when you’ve been doing the same thing for a really long time and you know that you want to do something else but can’t figure out what that is? like… let’s say you’ve been hopping on one foot and you’re tired of hopping on one foot but you can’t…