What an absurd being I am. I am an unending cycle, a series of patterns continuously colliding into themselves. But despite having resigned myself to accept this fact, I continue to live through the events that are dropped into my lap with quivering intensity and passion. I am unable to simply be indifferent, to just shrug anything off and carry on with my self-fulfilling existence. I often wonder whether or not I'm at all grateful for this trait of character.
Right now, right this instant as I'm typing this, I hurt. This might be temporary, this might be a reaction to a variety of circumstances or a brief plunge into the more fatalistic parts of my mind, but I'm filled with sadness and regret. I feel like I've wasted another rather extended period of time pursuing something that I could simply not have. I have this strange tendency of falling into these situations and being utterly incapable of dealing with them in an adequate and resolute fashion. I despise my insecurities and my inability to get over what I can only describe as 'ever-looming self-doubt.' May the echo of these words cease before morning.
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