My share of gold to have this room be about five degrees cooler or about five square feet larger. If that we the case though, I wouldn’t be sitting here in my underwear trying to figure out exactly where all the time has gone and why I have become convinced that growing up will most certainly be the death of me. This room is a crash site and my professor emailed me in the middle of my long overdue intoxicated questioning of my entire existence as I lay staring at the ceiling in my roommate’s girlfriends apartment just wondering where the papers I was supposed to do two months ago are. I haven’t the heart to tell him that they haven’t been written yet.
But me? Well shucks, I must have been the topic of conversation of at least one cab ride to somewhere else last night as me being in a night club is interesting at the very least. I told the waitress that I was in love with her and she laughed as is the natural reaction of women to me. What can I say? I guess I’m just a funny guy.
Watching the rain fall in Manhattan and the people and people and people and people and nothing can even scare them away because they are in all the majesty and each and every single one of those people carries something in their heart that makes them tick and strive for something or at the very least feel remorse and sadness for not being able to strive anymore. I think it was my birthday in my dream last night. Strange thing to say right? I don’t really even like my birthday all that much but I do enjoy other people’s birthdays. Cheers Ronan. Cheer Jerry. Cheers 37.
I’m going to stop now which usually ends up being a curse because for me to sit down and write these days has become a chore and I hate myself for that but it is and will be changing. So I’ll return but first I need to spend more time thinking about things and life and whatnot.
And here I am and although you cannot see me just close your eyes and trust that I’m actually here. Good, now stop and wonder whether anyone like me could ever actually exist and realize that’s insane and there is no way that I could actually be real. It’d be too mad and would upset the balance of things and we can have that, can we? I believe that is the biggest part of my… problem? I guess we can call it that, but the issue is that I’ve spent so much time thinking thing I don’t want to think about aren’t real and that I am the only real thing that there ever was.
This theory, in the words of Einstein, is bullshit. I am nothing but an illusion. The goal from here is to become less and less connected with reality as each day passes until I can become something better. It’s my only choice as I don’t know what will become of me or my mind or my heart if I continue to play by the rules that are put in place here before me and you and us. They were made not only to be broken but ultimately destroyed to the point where nothing at all remains of them. I will be completely imaginary by the time I die, at least I hope that I will.
Now I could stay here and say more and look for more to say but there is too much that needs to be undone. I need all other things to fall away so I can just be and once that happens, these things will start to make some more sense, or better yet less sense.