An attempt at optimism.
An attempt at optimism.  introspective stories
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jackwainwright
jackwainwright Conceited as they come.
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
A conceited reading, for the miserable.

An attempt at optimism.

I spend everyday worrying to my hearts content about the miasma of afflictions my life contains, never the big ones, just the small ones. Its like living under an oligarchy of misery.

The only joy I find is in meaningless substance abuse and far more meaningless sex with people under the visage that I care. I haven’t cared in a long time. About anyone, about anything.

I lay awake at night swimming in a pool of demons as cold as the lowest ring of tartarus.

The pain of constant affliction, when contained within such strong chains of solitude eventually build into a lock. One I feel I have lost the key for.

As when every emotion swivels from anger to sadness and every other negative pessimistic emotion under the god forsaken cosmos…

You become…numb. Lost. You learn to divert those feelings into the farthest recesses of your being, and thus forth your life no longer feels like a bathos… It just feels like nothing.

Incase you’re blind, deaf and dumb. You may have noticed I have the hardest time grasping this optimism thing…

To be continued...

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