memento mori

aint written in a while, but a goodly amount of vodka has taken care of that for now. i feel all "write-y" even though i know it's all shit.

memento mori.

 that is the only thing that keeps me going.  someday i will die and so none of this shit matters.  all my failed dreams mean nothing five seconds after i die.

the only thing is death isn't quick, it's slow and boring, like church or opera when you're five years old.  it seems to take forever.

i have that knot in my stomach, that yearning for something i can't describe, that sadness of something lost, perhaps something i never had to begin with, but i know deep in the marrow of my bones i'm somehow missing something that is right there.  i can't shake that feeling of i somehow fucked up but don't know exactly how or where.  it gnaws at me, it taunts me like a spectre just outside my vision, if i turn quick to see it, it's gone.   i can't shake it, life is nothing more than a shit frosted puke cake.  looks good, but really it just makes you sick, kicks you in the nuts, and moves on.

face it, the planet doesn't want us here.  there are so many things that area against us; weather, animals, disease, virii, all these things that are trying to destroy us.  we don't belong here.  we fight to survive just long enough to die.  what a fucking joke.

memento mori.

nothing works out like you expect, some people say it didn't work out like it's supposed to, but that is wrong. it works out just like it works out, and that is that.  there is no right or wrong way.  there is no right or wrong, there just...."is."   perhaps it's the winter, the cold that i feel deep under my skin, but i feel like no matter what i do i'm wrong.

i should be riding. i should be working out.  i should be doing lots of things. but i'm not. and this is stress for me.

my only consolation.....it ultimately doesn't matter.

memento mori.