I can’t stop thinking about how unstable my life has become. That inconsistency is absolutely tearing me apart. I can’t think. I can hardly function. I’m simply drowning in my own thoughts.
On nights like these, I can’t help but wonder about the existence of God. I’m not religious, like so many of my friends seem to be. Yet, my religious friends all seem to be a great deal happier than I am. Then again, most of them seem to think I am just as happy as them, so maybe nobody is really as happy as they seem. That leads me to think about this dark side that I have. As bubbly and extroverted as I often portray myself, there’s this part of me that is so totally morbid that I always come back to. And recently I can’t stop thinking about what a horrible person I am - but did Los Angeles make me this way, or did Los Angeles just show me what I’ve always been?
I was discussing these things tonight with an old friend of mine. I told him about my frustrations with my job, my friends, my romances; myself. I feel like I’m the only one who is missing everything. He said maybe it’s because I’m the only one who is honest. It blew my mind. How many people are there in the world that I know? How many Facebook friends? Twitter followers? Real friends? And yet there are nights where I still somehow manage to feel this unexplainable loneliness. Isolation. Abandonment. Destitution. - Not that it’s all necessarily true, it’s just a feeling. I can’t be the only one who feels this way, but it doesn’t make any sense nonetheless.
I wonder if this is growing up.
Alex Sautter (@calexifornia)
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