because the end is coming

funny how catharsis works.  this strangely self-serving monologue of rhetorical questions is growing tiresome to me.  i spend tons of time here musing over what emotional and idiotic things i will be doing next.  surely this long string of failed experiments and life choices will someday not be such a tumultuous downfall.  "the truth is like a sword, cuts deep."  truer words were never spoken.  

i keep telling myself someday this and someday that, but it is really just a lazy stalling tactic.  i dont know the future anymore than i can remember the things that i forgot long ago.  the past is an illusive nightmare of horrifying and true images of my darkest fears and sickest wishes.  there is always so much stress and disappointment accompanying the daily process of living.  the irony behind this thing called "life"; it is so short, so fraught with peril and so painful in its existence.  what really is the point behind this life?  what good things do we do for the betterment of the universe?  we blink into existence and wink out before anything good can come of our repeated failures.

i could scream to the empty heavens about the lack of fairness of the human life, but again, a worthless endeavor that would serve no purpose.  procrastination.  that is something that has become synonymous with life.  life is the procrastination between oblivions.   there is no heaven, no hell, no great event of faithful awareness.  there is only our depressingly short lives between the forever of emptinesses.