Alone… And Lost In Paradise.

Los Angeles. The land where dreams come true… well, supposedly.

I haven’t been graced with the luck of accomplished dreams. Mostly me not having the energy or level of care and determination to chase after those dreams. That’s all they are: sweet dreams that swirl around in my infinite universe of a conscious.

I wish I cared more. Sometimes I do, but then some switch in my brain shuts off and suddenly the world becomes shades of grey. I can’t find the strength to get up and look around, no strength to use to try for anything. It’s a heaviness I wouldn’t wish on anyone, unless I really fucking hate you… then let it crush you.

Behind the curtain of grey, I can’t think. Even the simplest thing seems impossible. I was driving tonight and a dissociative wave hit me while I was in traffic. I see all of it, the glowing brake lights, the reflective signs and lines in the road. And yet it all feels like a video game. A simulation. None of it is real, I’m not real. I heard the music playing in my car, and I could feel thoughts passing through my head but I don’t recall a single one now. How am I able to drive perfectly when my mind is somewhere else? This is nothing new, I’ve done this a million times. But still, it puzzles me how I get home safely when I barely remember the drive home.

But in the world of traffic, I look around and wonder why anyone wants to live in this motorized wasteland. Sometimes I really hate it. It’s hot, it’s expensive, I think people believe the grass is greener on the other side. Some days I feel indifferent, and other days I can appreciate it. But the people that inhabit it… I wish they would go away. I hate looking people in the eye because I don’t want to see the entitlement they believe they have because they live in fucking Los Angeles. Fuck off, you fake pieces of shit.

Sometimes I’ll be standing in public, wherever I may be, and I look around and I just want to scream at the top of my lungs. Just like the girl in the Incubus music video “Warning.” As if people would really want to hear what I have to say…

We’re all too busy and wrapped up in our own heads to care what anyone else wants or needs. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m in the grey headspace right now where nothing matters nor do I care about anything or anyone, and I just hate myself because I’m screaming internally and no one can hear me and they still don’t care and they don’t understand this perpetual cycle that lingers on inside of me and they live peacefully and blissfully unaware of the shit-storm that is happening around them. They never care. That was one big run-on sentence but I don’t give a shit, and I’m not going to fix it.

I have nothing good or insightful to say in this post. I don’t know why I bothered even writing it. I’m in such a heavy headspace right now that it’s like I’m trying to make sense, but by trying to make sense I’m failing horribly. I’m not getting through to anyone or myself. I wanted to write it down so it can be laid out in front of me, but I can’t piece anything together and it all sounds like nonsense. Don’t listen to me.

Nobody cares. That’s what’s swirling around in my head. Nobody will say how they feel. Nobody wants to feel. Nobody wants to try and understand. Nobody wants to make anything happen with anyone or anything. Nobody wants to connect to another soul in this godforsaken city that everyone claims is paradise. And yet, here I am. Lost and alone in this “paradise.”



And so, another silent cry falls to the ground. But does it actually make a sound if no one is around…?



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These are the musings of a 32 y/o dreamer, wisher and doer. All my posts are authentic; I write what's in my heart.

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