Man its so frustrating to be forced to watch yourself grow up and grow older
Its like a God given torture to set up a clock for someone and letting him know that its gonna stop eventually.
Id be happier to live my life as a wild animal rather than a miserable human being.
I dont feel nice at all. not because of the heavy burden of being alive of course. hahaha Im not on that level yet.thank god. Its probably because of the cheapest bottle of wine I got  from the grocery  store that I have been drinking for the last 2 days.

I'd make an amazing philosopher if i was a tiny bit stronger thinker to order all that clustered thoughts bugging my head. This mediocre level of sanity gives me nothing but terrible headaches in the midnight and crappy artwork in the morning after.

Oh boy, don't I sound like Will Smith's son.

No one wants to live forever yet no one wants to 'actually' die either.

For about ten years now, or maybe even more, I have  been programmed to set my alarm about an hour earlier just to make sure I got another hour to sleep and feel happy about it.
Life has its ridiculously weird ways to show you the  most stupid and yet comforting ways to simply enjoy little moments.
It's a pity those moments are pretty hard to discover all the time.
And most of the time you just find it easier to think of yourself as a man trying to climb the mount Everest on flip flops and just keep feeling sorry for yourself until you eventually get bored of that gloomy feeling and decide setting your alarm two hours earlier this time.
Hopelessly hoping that it should double that so called euphoria.

It's a cycle,
It will pass.
Then again, it's a cycle,
It'll come back.

Gravity works pretty strongly on me. No wonder I keep sitting instead of acting.

Being on and endless loop of waiting for the weekend for the rest of your life

Im thinking of a whole bunch of cliche crap about love and friendship and life at the moment.
this time I`ll keep all that crap to myself though.

25.

that's it.
I'm ready to live the rest of my life with a plain gray tshirt, some jeans and a pair of new balance sneakers in a cabin filled with the heaviest stock of paper, pencils and peanut butter.

That picture of my hands holding a piece of paper written my name on it is 6 years old. 

25 years old and hopelessly seeks happiness in buying new furniture.

In case you wonder what chaged in two years,
the answer is a big fat nothing.
A higher salary, an older face and a bigger hole in my "poor unfortunate soul" if those count.