I wonder if perfection exists. I wonder if there are moments where everything feels right. No stray thoughts, no doubts. Just you and your moment and its perfection on every side. Why we go after something outside of ourselves I do not know. But I do know that I do just that. These words "I" and "want" are perhaps two of the most destructive words there are. But I do want. And so do you. It's what makes us real. I so want to be real. At the same time, so much of me does not feel like this is reality, like this is where we are supposed to be. So much of me exists somewhere else. So much of me is ensnared by the dream. Every one of us has a life, and a dream. But I do not believe in humanity's originality and therefore I do believe that while there is a writer who creates a character who ensnares your imagination, or captures your heart, there is hope. Because there is someone else out there who felt the need for that existence and so there must be more. There must be someone who understands just as much. Is it safe here? Are we safe anywhere? Everywhere we go we are accompanied by humanity, and humanity is one of the most disturbing concepts I have ever come across. A dream is always possible. Somehow. There has to be a place where someone is living their dream. Because then it's worth it, all the pain humanity endures and puts us through, all the words, all the miseries, all the tragedies, all the griefs. All the things we wish for, all the uncertainties that makes us cry. All of that is only worth it if someone somewhere is living their dream. Maybe that is the balance, of what you want and what somebody else wants. We need to want, so that we can find our dream, and then live it. And then the fact that we are will give inspiration to the billion others who are not. It all matters so much, and it all matters so little. That's not me being cryptic. I am trying to find that balance. I am trying to figure out what is worth it, and why. I'd like someone to come around and tell me. I'd like to know that somebody knows. In their every moment, they have an understanding of the world around them that is not perfect, but is perfectly balanced. I'd like to say hello.

Sometimes it feels like I am under the ocean, with gallons of water pushing down on me. I cannot move, I cannot breathe, but my consciousness cannot leave. I feel I'll explode. Sometimes the emotions that laugh as they toss me between them in their on-the-beach of Mars volleyball match, feel like they are corroding to touch. What if we are mistakes? What is there is no freedom in this world? What if our destiny is to die? Morbid, I know. Negative, I know. Depressing, I know. But that doesn't mean it's not true. After reading James Patterson's Maximum Ride all I know is how much I want that existence. Of not knowing where I will be tomorrow. I want to know my mission. I want to be able to spread wings from my back and fly, knowing that someone has my back. I am so tempted to take a screwdriver to my brain. What a waste we are. We pollute and destroy, we know nothing but consumption and then when it is too much for our bodies to handle we puke it all up for the Earth to handle once more. If we could extract ourselves from ourselves, if we were to live to survive, there would be no such thing as worrying about whether you would be happy tomorrow. Instead, it would be, I'm not sure I will be alive tomorrow so I might as well take this happiness now. I can't find it all the time. We're failures in this place. I try for positivity but sometimes I want to scream myself hoarse and I just cry...so much. It is such a waste. Sorrow is wasteful. Tears do not help. Anger does nothing. So what do I do? How do I channel this utter potency into something so I don't feel a need to just leap off a cliff and have those few moments of freefall that are worth it because what else is. What else is there? I'm not some negativity freak. I don't like feeling this way. But I can't escape myself and honest to God I wish I could. Because I think somewhere deep inside, I think I might hate myself. I have learnt not to hate other people, I have learnt not to hate the world. I think I might hate myself. Hate myself for existing, because inside every existence there are mistakes and I want to hang myself for how often I just fuck up. Can somebody just give me a way to live please. A way to just make people happy. I want a group to take care of, because I coukd and because then there is purpose. Now there is only blur. There is only muddle. There is only...me. And there's no way I am enough. What's to stop me running in the road? None of it is ever good enough and it really feels like the world should be burning. We can't live like this. I want children to care for. Failure, failure, failure. That word haunts me, chases me. I don't know who, I don't know where. But we are always going to fail somebody. How screwed up is that? Can't I just skip this part? God, I hate my tears. They are the biggest waste and there is no-one, no-one who will know enough to wipe them away. I don't deserve it. If I'm going to be miserable, lets swap someone appreciative and good into my place. God, what is this place?