I believe this existence is mostly meaningless. It’s by luck that we have consciousness, but that’s it. When this is over, it’s over. It’s both freeing and terrifying. I want to take that knowledge and use it to live a stress free life doing what I like, yet I still buy into the current system of which we are all a part of and find problems everywhere. I admit, I want a life for myself that seems to contradict most of my philosophical outlook. If this life is meaningless then I am free to do anything. Yet, the society we live in makes it seem so god damn important for us do what it wants instead. It’s not involuntary, but it’s pretty damn convincing.
Tomorrow the world may burn and I’m trying to make a dollar. That makes me sick.
A dollar that is meaningless unless one gives it meaning. I hate the dollar. I can’t imagine a world where it doesn’t exist, but god damn is it ridiculous.
It’s fucking paper.
No, it’s not even that anymore.
It’s a fucking number. Whatever.
I wrote an entry nearly a year ago about leaving Los Angeles and hitting the road. I felt stagnant, like I was part of a “Groundhog Day” situation that I wasn’t sure I enjoyed. That urge, fleeing, it’s returning with great weight this time. Not only am I making things I don’t like, but I’m worse off than I was this time last year. I’ve attempted many things to break the cycle but I ended up shooting myself in the foot. Both feet, actually. I’ve had a year’s long steady decline.
It’s becoming increasingly difficult to hide the boredom and discontent from my face. When I am unsatisfied with a conversation or situation, I kind of shut down. As of recent, when people have conversations with me about topics of which I have no interest in, I don’t navigate it well. Instead of being the happy trooper and engaging in the societal norms of conversation, I just remain quiet until there’s an awkward ending. I just give up. It’s weird, because I do listen but all I can think is “Why the fuck do you care about this vapid horse shit?” It seems like the majority of the people in Los Angeles that I come into contact with deeply care about the most tedious and self-indulgent non sense. I can’t tell if I’m an asshole for wanting them to shut the fuck up or if I’m doing the world a disservice by not pointing out to them why they should. Either way, I think I’m in the wrong.
Obviously it’s not everyone or every conversation. My favorite thing on the planet is talking to people. When I find someone interesting or puzzling or even someone I can’t read right away, I get excited. I want to figure them out, understand who they are, and find out why they are different. Meeting someone worth talking to is like a breath of fresh air in a dark and stale room. It’s new. It’s invigorating.
So, that makes me wonder: Would I be happier on the road? I would definitely meet all sorts of people outside my “bubble”. Wouldn’t a new challenge and a new way of thinking be exactly where I would thrive? I could turn into one of those obnoxious traveling types that’s always talking about how travel saves lives, or... whatever? You know the type.
I still think my original idea of driving from state to state meeting new people and documenting it my way would be beneficial. At least for me. But that would mean I’m giving up on the system I still place so much weight in. Do I REALLY want to leave, or am I just unhappy with my current situation? What would happen if I got a job I actually liked? What would happen if I let down my guard and let people in? What would happen if I just left the house or stopped hiding from my friends and answered my god damn phone? Would I be happy?
I’m confused how most people can make decisions. I’m confused on how I should be living my life. The lack of meaning in life should be freeing but when I buy into the system it’s like there’s a weight on my chest every time I do something I genuinely don’t care for, which is most things these days.
The world could end tomorrow, but can I really live that way?