ERGO I AGAIN, ON MY OWN

Shallow people are definately more common than those with integrity, purpose and depth. Look around yourself. Two of every three people you have right there with you, are more than likely only assessing the situation to see how they can manipulate those around for their own gain. One of them is trying to find a way to make it better for all.

My life has not yet formed a purpose. And here I am finding myself at nearly 50 years of age. I’ve always tried to be a decent individual, ofttimes failing. What is my purpose and just how do I leave things better than when I was here? I don’t have the money to be the altruistic financial benefactor for some magnificent cause. Time and kind words seem to be the only real currency that I have to offer.

The shenanigans and folies of a misspent youth are what has plagued my life so far at this supposed middle-aged I’m hitting. I still feel like a teenager, that is until I’m getting out of bed in the morning. And my behaviors are the type that one would expect from a pubescent teenager.

“IDIOT”

So where do I make my mark?

Local nursing homes?

Animal rescues?

Homeless shelters?

Battered womens shelters ( I prefer mine non-battered. Thank you)?

Local church? … I think I would make an impeccable Latter Days Saint

Ummmmm… NOT!!

Orgasm donor? (So not altruistic, Dan!)

So I continue to find myself seeking a purpose for me. Something that will make me feel like my world, my existence, has left behind something that has made this place better. It certainly is not my writing.

Popping dogs anal glands at a local groomer? Ew, no! But someone will have to do that, I’m far too much a germaphobe to be THAT altruistic.

Nothing to say

Repeat..Repeat…repeat

It’s tough when you love to write, and you have nothing to say.

Like being an empty vessel. Sitting in a void, a dark place that is absolutely silent, without even the company of ones own voice.

And it’s not even depression. Or giving up, or in.

I feel as though I am lacking insight or inspiration. Just… being..

Get up…………..

…………… Go to work

……………………….. Go home………..

…………. Go to bed………………………

****Repeat..Repeat…repeat****

I don’t remember the last time I have watched, or for that matter, appreciated, a sunrise or sunset. Perhaps I need to do that.

As I reflect over my words, I realize it could be….

…DEPRESSION.

WELL FUCK MY LIFE!

My life doesn’t suck… geez Dan always so dramatic.

Time to face the fact that perhaps,I am chemically defective. Yup, broken. Emotionally handicapped. Cray -Cray

So do I go down to see my local psych doc. Let him poke around the old mass of grey matter. Pick at my emotional and mental regions so that he can stamp me with a label that will keep me from owning guns?!?!

Fuck that!

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