How To Slack

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pexel.com

I don’t know. I see myself as a slacker for the past, what, almost 3 years. I don’t know how time has really flown. Wait. Time has gone away and I am left hanging out to dry. To be straight, it is all me here taking this soapbox. No people listening, just me out there. Not really out there, just a hermit trolling around the real life out there.

Inter webs of unknown messy issues I’ve put the me in, well not really that messy as I see it but in all of it it is just shit, bottom line.

I don’t know if I’m making sense in here. Before I thought of writing this post what I really want to happen is drastic and extreme. I want to delete this platform. This is me talking of putting into the trash all the words, all the time stamps, all the memories, all the looking forward goals. Group of words stitched through by my brain juice. I want to delete all the pictures, all those immortalizing of experiences. Crap! I guess am bitten by a bug carrying a deadly virus creeping in to my bloodstream infecting what is left of me. I’ve become a party pooper now.

I may sound creepy writing these cryptic thoughts that aren’t the kind of my choice for such a personal post but writing this, wording out my thoughts now is like spitting disgust, hate, frustration, desperation. Yes! All those negativity consuming me. Shit. Shit that is.

I rather really put to an end to this non sense. Quietly take the back door and walk away. I can’t. I really can’t. I am afraid now what words I am typing, what words I’ve already put it out in this post. Immortalizing non sense. The non sense self. The lost self. Please give me this soapbox now. Just listen to me. Just read me. Just keep me warm out here.

What do I do now? I can’t keep doing this to myself, can I? Hiding under this bridge but I am not really hiding. I am with the wind. I am with the sun. I am with the earth. I don’t know. I’ve heard a lot, read a lot saying that they really don’t know what this all means; they really don’t know if this is making sense; they really don’t know. Maybe it’s not just me. One thing I know in me, I am getting by yet hollow and shallow. Hungry for the world. I don’t know what that means.

Lethargic. I do not deserve to be this. I’ve been swimming and wallowing to an ocean of convenience for the past years. I know they are suffering. When the feeling of you not being deserving to be part of them because you have that effect of putting away in hiding what is more to life. Great expectations killed a part of me. Leaving me spent and cursed. When you step into that kind of darkness things get a little bit shaky. I am walking on egg shells and it sucks.

There are sparks when I close my eyes. Sparks of future I want. A future that will not be in parallel with expectations but a future that cultivates life and life there is. Whatever life that is.

If only I am not into this now that putting an end to this non sense is over some alcohol but if I do that I am only making a fool of me. The potential me that aims for what is out there. Just derailed at this point. Washed by the tides, slowly floating to the shore. Writing down, wording into this platform eases that killed part of me. Sharing this might keep me get by more. Buy some time more to recover. Let my potential me get back on tracks.

Please don’t get weird out on me. This is me telling a story. My ears are vibrating with Troye Sivan on Spotify as I write this. Keeping me company. I realized that composing this post just boils down to me giving a fuck but really writing it down is therapy. I am immortalizing this because I want to make fun of this one time me feeling: lethargic, dying, hollow, shallow but really I am just fucked up. Consumed of my own demons.

I need to get out and have a drink really. Thank you.

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