sami k (the k stands for potassium!)
last night i painted my nails black, for giggles. what the heck, it's still casual days at the office.
sometimes i oscillate so wildly between extremes that it makes my own head spin. i'm full of love for the world and my fellow man and everyone i know, and then i'm bitter, jealous, selfish, disenfranchised, all within the same breath. i'd rather be creative than happy. happiness is creative death. contentment is enough. i'm happiest when some part of my life is sufficiently incomplete that i have something to work toward. beyond that is the satisfied sense of happiness that bleeds seamlessly into that purposeless kind of depression that comes after the last showing of a play you've devoted the last six months of your life to, or filming the last take of the last scene of a movie. you're done. it's beautiful. but what the fuck do you do with your life now? happiness is vacuous. half the time, when i see other people being publicly and vocally happy, it makes me gag. it annoys me. it makes me want to punch them really, really hard. not because i'm jealous (goodness knows i have a nice life) but because i think it's vulgar and obnoxious. it's like you're rubbing it in the faces of everybody who's just normal and discontent. i wonder if this makes me a bad person, or if it's what we're all thinking but can't bring ourselves to say.
last night i painted my nails black, for giggles. what the heck, it's still casual days at the office.
sometimes i oscillate so wildly between extremes that it makes my own head spin. i'm full of love for the world and my fellow man and everyone i know, and then i'm bitter, jealous, selfish, disenfranchised, all within the same breath. i'd rather be creative than happy. happiness is creative death. contentment is enough. i'm happiest when some part of my life is sufficiently incomplete that i have something to work toward. beyond that is the satisfied sense of happiness that bleeds seamlessly into that purposeless kind of depression that comes after the last showing of a play you've devoted the last six months of your life to, or filming the last take of the last scene of a movie. you're done. it's beautiful. but what the fuck do you do with your life now? happiness is vacuous. half the time, when i see other people being publicly and vocally happy, it makes me gag. it annoys me. it makes me want to punch them really, really hard. not because i'm jealous (goodness knows i have a nice life) but because i think it's vulgar and obnoxious. it's like you're rubbing it in the faces of everybody who's just normal and discontent. i wonder if this makes me a bad person, or if it's what we're all thinking but can't bring ourselves to say.