there's only one thing i know

that time passes. it takes no rights, it leaves no rights, it just is and has the right to be.

the only thing i think i know, is that everything has to be tried for the first time.
everything.
nothing comes as a habit, nothing becomes usual, nothing becomes musclememory unless you do it for the first time and then rehearse it untill you get rid of that anxious feeling from being a noob.

everyone can and should at all times relate to that.

i'm forever grateful for being a fast learner.
and an even faster forgetter.


purpose. what is that.
everything has to have a purpose or else you've failed.
what's the point with no point.
i always have to make great excuses for being me.
is it right?
am i wrong? are people wrong? is ther perception of 'meaning' and 'purpose' something else than mine?
is there anything more to life rather than being depressed when you really think about it?

cars in a rush. rushtraffic. it makes no sense.
i think that the purpose behind being narrowminded is way weaker than the purpose behind overthinking things. but weakness in itself is strong, because you're not smart enough to realise how depressed you should be.

i can't shake the feeling of being so enormously wrong.
in all the right ways. wrong in all the right places.
better than being right in all the wrong places?
whoever knows, i just want to fish and live in the moment.
(which i never seem to do)

i must remember to remind myself that i am depressed. it's a fact.
i must embrace it, the feelings and the facts.

 it's a slow habit. it slows everything down.
so getting out of it makes for a slow process.

this is my mind, my pollution, mine to handle.

and in my head it's all just plain old fiction.
a novel of rants, i am a novice of all the important things.

my self-esteem is lower than ever, i realise how little i know.

bottom. rock bottom. i'm buried underneath there somewhere.
rocks.

getting well. what is that. what is the point. being happy. is there such a thing. is it really all that important. what if this just is what it is, what if this is the big it about me. do i really have to care about my great potential. what's the point behind realising myself. is it for me or is it for society or is it for my parents or is it for my vanity. my mind is hibernating, eating itself to survive. munches off my intellect and inflict serious damage upon my grey matter.
it doesn't matter.

not really.
getting well. to whose standards?
when will i ever feel well? i must fool myself in order to fit in, i must be a fool to convince myself that this is for me. what if the reason behind my depression is that i'll never fit in? why squeeze myself into a shape that i cannot withstand for long? is there any wonder why i feel like changing the channel?
i must not become well in order to fit into the everyday life that i loathe.
i must become well enough to start over, to have it my way.
to fool people, not be the fool myself. leave the impression of a well-balanced person with a vision, a great past and an even greater future.

all is beautiful in here. i only get depressed when i let reality sink in.