Where Is The End?

Im tired.

Who cares? Why do I even care? DO I actually care…or is this something I’ve been taught to give thought to?

Why do we do the things we do, say what we say, act how we act?

What’s the meaning of all this? Or am I searching for something that was never meant to be found…simply chased after?

What happens when you get tired of the chase? Or does that ever even happen?

Does being tired mean you accept physical death? Or that you just move in life as someone who’s depressed? Maybe it means you just do whatever you want and give no fucks. But I guess that’s a scary reality.

Scary for who…? And scared of what?

I think humans are scared of looking in the mirror. So quick to see others’ faults and refuse to give the benefit of the doubt…yet somehow can’t see our own reflections.

So maybe we’re just scared of our own scary stories. The endless possibilities of terrible things we’re capable of. Scared to unleash our unfiltered selves. Because what would that mean for the progression (or destruction) of our world…?

Up or down…either way, we’re above or below sea level. Past sub zero at every calculation. 3,6,9…man….it’s such a cyclic loop. What insanity…to constantly repeat the same story. His or Hers…I kinda don’t care anymore….or at least….I don’t want to.

In my bones….I’m tired….but for some reason I won’t give up. I have a strong will to fight for everything and nothing at the same damn time. And even these thoughts exhaust me.