What at the time seemed luck and mostly divine grace, now is only damnation.
I don’t like who I am when I’m with you. That’s just a facade of who you want me to be or think I am, a meaningless act I keep involuntarily to preserve your image of me, even if it’s one of the lowest opinion. I don’t like being restrained from being myself, even if it’s myself who cannot break these chains. It has been so long I cannot be anything else with you anymore. You have this idea of the person I am and you impose it on me negating my vain attempts to breath.
Books are the only safe place.
If you have studied philosophy you’d know human beings have several needs. Firstly and most importantly the basic needs such as eating, sleeping, breathing, things like that. Once and only then, you have reached the ability to obtain these needs, you’ll be able experience and focus on other ones as relationships, confidence and honestly the one I care the most, Art.
I’m still stuck in the primary needs, I cannot find stability and realization in my work. It’s precarious and gives me a good amount of anxiety. Clearly having a job is the only way to have a roof to sleep at and food. Money is everything. I have a place to live and I have food but that’s it. There are no opportunities for growing. To live and not just exist.
That’s why I cannot conciliate the raw aspects of life with the abstract ones. I see people making art, traveling and hanging out with friends and having one life time experiences and I cannot do anything cause I have to work and do not have enough time for anything else. The period I was not working I had no incomes. I had some savings but I did not trust the fragile security of a fixed and limited amount of money. My life is a loop.
I cannot see where I’m going, especially when I do not think I’m moving at all. Living in an eternal loop until death. Waiting for a glitch to save me from this meaningless system.
You would say the best solution would be to take chances but I have responsibilities and my only way out of this nightmare is marriage. Hah, it’s so ironic. I dread for freedom and yet, the only way to free myself from this cage is another cage. What is this? The ninentith century???
Some cages are better than others.
I want to be free.
Death is my freedom.
ma vie est une merde.
That’s gonna be the name of a new parfum. I don’t see it being a huge hit tho.