Beauty in breakdown

Currently listening to "Stephanie Says" by The Velvet Underground. She's not afraid to die, it's all in her mind. I think we should all be like Stephanie.

My bed is what I imagine heaven to be like. It's a freaking package of bliss compressed into a cot of fiber and springs. It's my recharge station, my sanctuary of consolation, my trusty vessel to unknown destinations...but most of all, it's my personal asylum when I have random bouts of senseless thoughts and ideas. Take now, for example.

We all suffer the same way. No matter what we suffer from as individuals, I believe that feeling of affliction and remorse is communal and equally shared. You suffer from a wrong choice, I suffer from the death of a loved one, Albert Markovski suffers from Brad Stand suffering. When it comes down to it, there isn't any distinction. Just as music is the universal language, suffering is the universal emotion. It comprises intensive properties, wherein scientifically a system size or amount of material within a system is not pertinent to the actual property. Likewise, suffering isn't rooted in magnitude, but rather, existence.

Hands down, it's a necessary, understood evil. As cliche (and therefore very true) as it may sound, bona fide happiness cannot exist without depression, misery, and hatred. As mere humans, we are uncontrollably drawn to that "orgiastic state" of distress. Without it, we would only be and not feel. We would be statically living in a fucking utopia like little inhuman ants. A few months ago, I witnessed my first shooting star and someone told me to make a wish. My internal response? That there'd be no more suffering in the world. God, it's a blessing these overrated wishing mechanisms are as real as the words that come out of our president's mouth.

If anything, it's not our successes that define us,, it's our failures. We are not great because we conquered Mt. Everest. We're great because we tried so many times and failed miserably, but accomplished it in the end. Maybe this phase is a catalyst on my journey to become great. Or perhaps it will lead to my destruction. I don't mind either one.

But I ramble, what do I really know? ..I'm just a foolish 18 year old girl suffering from trivial teen drama, a damned conscious, and a side platter of existential dilemma.

Tactfully,
T.J.