I was blankly staring at the television in front of me; how could I not wonder why any of this 'really' matters. Maybe I'm just depressed, but even as that pessimistic thought entered my mind I wasn't sure 'it' mattered. My brain is just throwing a pity party and I happened to be sitting on the balcony overhearing pointless conversations.
Honestly, I was beginning to doubt my own immutable beliefs. When you're face down in a self-made pile of shit you call your life, then one tends to question what got them there. Did I snap an irreparable cog somewhere within or do I just need to tighten a few bolts?
A few drops of alcohol lead to a few liters, but I dislike drinking; Of course, I indulge in the firewater whenever possible. Much like the cigarette smoke I force my body to choke in spite of it destroying me. Really though, why do I do all these things with no upside and only downsides? Am I a drug addict?
Probably, but truthfully I couldn't even tell you who I am, what I like doing, or about my dreams. I just don't know anymore. I'm not even one-dimensional.