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i hate feeling unproductive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
everything makes me happy. everythnig makes me sad.
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rainy summer day thoughts
this world wasnt made for us, and some day humans as a species will disappear. and the forests will grow back and forget what we did to them. and time will go on. yet somehow this process does not scare me, i find it comforting in a cruel and funny way. i am but one part of a larger cosmos. an assemblage of stardust and small desires and romances and fears that somehow has the opportunity, if only for a brief moment, exist among all things. maybe it is a divine torture that i was born, the odds for the circumstances of one's existence to be as such is so astronomically large that it seems like only some diety could have arranged it. often i pondered "is this opportunity to exist in the world as such a curse or a blesseing?" yet now the question seems irrelevant. as i write this a squashed a bug, as it got in the way of my spelling and seemed insignificant enough to do without losing sleep over. yet thinking now, what are we to the universe in that case? but bugs, no, mere...
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