Sunday, February 22, 2004
Journal entry before bed
I lie awake alot of nights wondering what i am. Why i am not satisfied with myself? What i am meant to do? How my heart even beats without these answers. That the hell am i made out of...where do i get off thinking about this shit, where does the shit come from dammit!
I am certain i will never have one answer, or any that are correct. I keep thinking that reaching some points, or doing or having something will make me know the answers. I will then be satisfied with things. I would have everything I want in contentment.
But as humans we are never content of satified. I am scared i will go to college, fall in mutual love and it will not make me happy or satisfied. that they will not teach me what i am supposed to do.
What am i even talking about.

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