I know the world does not revolve around me. That I'm just another wave crashing. That life is short....sort of...and unpredictable. I could be dead tomorrow from a bus or a bullet or a brain tumor. There's no need to commit suicide because eventually nature will do it for me. But here is the problem. I am an insanely introspective person. I spend all my free time...which is as of late ALL my time...thinking about how the world works. Observing myself and others and obsessing over the patterns that spread out through our lives. Sometimes I tap into a place of great calm...knowing everything is the same, nothing is new, and fame, power and luxury are inventions....because when it comes down to it we spend parts of our life happy and parts of it sad. And that's fucking it. If you are born ignorant, uninterested and blind to the worlds problems....then you will probably spend more time happy. If you recognize everyone as equal and empathize with others you'll probably spend more of your time being sad.. There's 7 billion people I the world....we're bound to rub off on each other some how. The problem with all my thinking...is I've logiced by way out wanting to be alive. My inner pessimist has gotten the best of me. In an eerie not anxiety fueled way. I probably won't kill myself. But it seems like life is tedium dotted with bolts of real human expression. It's these that are rare and beautiful and worth sticking around for. But even when I'm making love....ye I'm beyond happy, but in the back of my head... I'm picturing eight generations from now when no one remembers my name... And the world is just chugging along fine without me. It's like death is my obsession. My love and my curse. Clearly not normal, but hey at least I'm honest.