"Life is but an empty dream," I said in mournful numbers.

I don't see the importance of life on earth. It's been awhile since I have.

People are pointless. I don't trust them, and I rarely like them. They don't really care at all, but they lie and say they do.

I guess you could say I'm not a happy individual. I have spurts of it, but they fade as quickly as they come. I don't look at anything in the world with optimism. Instead I stress over everything and let both my brain and my heart suffer to the attacks of my emotions. You're correct if you guessed that it isn't healthy to let that happen. Let is a strong word, and my anxiety is even stronger. I dont let it happen. It forces itself into me and overcomes my steady mind.

I am saddened by the weakest of things. As much as I try to keep the fact that I'm upset from others, I'm not great at it. I secretly want them to fix it, to show me that whatever they did wasn't what I thought it was. What a pitiful existence. Most things can't really be fixed. I am disappointed and hateful towards human nature and desire. I say " fuck you" to the people and hate them for their faults (or what I perceive to be their faults). I don't give a damn about people, but they think do. I scorn them for their stupidity and move on.

There are certain things that each person does that leads me to trust them less. If it upset me in th past, I sure as hell expect it to do the same again. If I hear about those things my mood simply dies.

My mood is dead right now. I hate everyone right now. I don't want to deal with this stupid world right now.

One of my favorite poems is "The Psalm of Life", but it looks like I really don't agree with it at all.

"Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream.
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not as they seem.

Life is real, life is earnest,
And the grave is not it's goal.
Dust thou art to dust returneth
Was not spoken of the soul."

I can recite it by memory because I learned it in eighth grade. The words are beautiful, but I disagree with them. Sure, life is real, but it's a harsh reality. I guess my soul speaks differently than others', too. Mine likes dust quite well.

This is a broad post. I didn't come in with a theme in mind, but instead with a thought process. I do apologize for the random prose.

Sincerely Cynical,
Kaci