bitter. yet...sweet. (nahhh. just tart)

I honestly have beyond no idea what is occurring in my philosophy class. What the FUCK was I thinking? And honestly, what the fuck is free will? But If we're going there...then what the FUCK is knowledge, freedom etc (Gag me with something really gross. like sandpaper. ow.) Ive had this feeling a lot lately. And I cant really compare it to anything except finishing a book. Finishing a book always makes me feel weird. And Im pretty sure you can identify. (yayyy we can finally relate to eachother-----that took a long time) Its that happy completion, yet letdown. You feel so good about yourself because youre intellectualizing that crummy mind by doing something productive, expanding your vocabulary, and growing growing growing. (like a delicate little dandelion that some little 12 year old prick will ulitimately come and pick while saying 'mama had a baby and its head POPPED off' oh, well there goes your head. and if we're using this analogy we might as well use this in comparison to LIFE. oh what a shock. Life will completely mindfuck you. the end) Back to the book. So youre reading, and its hard at times. You set it down. You might pick it up in an hour, a day, a year, five years. There is really no telling. And some books you may never finish, good for you! The best book Ive ever read, I didnt finish. (Liar!!!!) Maybe finishing would have ruined it because endings always let me down. Except one. And now that I thought of it, it made me smile. Put a twinkle in my eye. My heart is back to its 18.9 year old self, no longer a 45 year old pessimist. That book would be THE GOD OF SMALL THINGS. And i'll tell you how it ended. With one word: Tomorrow.

Back to the book thing. You work so damn hard. Finally finish. And you want a medal. You want everyone to pat your back, hand you twenty dollars, and let you eat the last piece of cake (or meatloaf if youre in to that). But, NO ONE cares. (no. one.) Not your teacher, not your dog Bustit, not your boyfriend, girlfriend, best friend, etc. And you dont understand why. You tell yourself you did it for yourself anyway, to grow, to ESCAPE. But youre looking for someone who can appreciate this win, this accomplishment. And once you find that person, you love them. You talk to them (about the book). Youre twins. Soulmates. Star crossed lovers. You adore them. And then you get over it. You read that book years ago anyway, that book is out of your life. You cant remember what great insight it gave you in to the meaning of life anyway, and nowadays you dont really give a fuck.

Except you do. Because books arent like movies. Books never leave your brain. You never forget if you have read a book. You can certainly forget if youve watched a movie, if you liked the movie. You never forget your opinion of a book.

Did i just contradict myself ten times while making myself in to a hypocrite, because I was trying to sound sophisticated? Maybe. I dont give a fuck. Im sick of philosophy. But I cant go back now. I'll go where I want to go. Yeah. Yeah. I'll be what I want to be. (cant go back now - the weepies)

I cant really say why everyone wants to be somewhere else. But in the end the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself.