tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-245083852011-08-22T16:20:48.212-07:00Random stuff about life, the world, people in general or just post somthing you want to talk about. I have an opinion on almost anything.Dyingslowlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09876642921702011183noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508385.post-1143000606076823122006-03-21T20:09:00.000-08:002006-03-21T20:10:06.076-08:00Some days I think I’d rather die than keep on living, because you only really live until you die, why all the theatrics. Do I really want to put up with all the shit this fucked up world sends my way? Then I think of how I could die, is burning to death worse than living? I’m only living to die anyway. Does my life lack meaning? Then I think of those few happy days where everything seems to go right, everything seems in place. Do those few and far between days cancel out the rest? Does the happiness outweigh the emptiness? What is life anyway? In the whole scheme of things none of our lives really matter, none of us really matter. If I die the world doesn’t stop for me. Does it? I guess we don’t really know when were dead. So if when we’re alive life doesn’t matter, then does death? Were all really dead, we just haven’t come to that point in our lives yet. Is death part of life? Is death the climax of our existence? Is death the answer to the equation where all our transgressions divide into zero and we cease to exist? Or is life only a part of death? So what is the beginning, where is the end? It’s all one question, you just aren’t asking it. But what do I care what you ask? Why does anyone care what you ask? Have you asked yourself that? Were all just living to die, so why do we care? You care because you’re dying to live; you’re grasping on to the shards of your life and hope you hold on tight enough not to get cut. You can do that you know, hold something sharp so tight that you won’t get cut until you let go. By the time you realize this it’s to late, you have to let go sometime, but you’ll get cut if you do. Eventually you weaken, your grip loosens and you feel it slice through your hands, feel your life slip from your bleeding fingers. Why is it, do you think, that we don’t remember pain? Who has the answers? We all have questions<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508385-114300060607682312?l=dyingslowly-intolerance.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dyingslowlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09876642921702011183noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508385.post-1143000564565766582006-03-21T20:05:00.000-08:002006-03-22T21:59:59.450-08:00First post-fun stuff!<br />If you want to post on this blog just e-mail me and set up an account its not hard, tell me your username and ill add you to the blog. Or you can leave a comment and ill make a new post for you. Ill put stuff I find on the web here, random stuff i write or draw. if anyone has a question about somthing, ask, im good at giving advice, just dont ask me to follow it<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508385-114300056456576658?l=dyingslowly-intolerance.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dyingslowlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09876642921702011183noreply@blogger.com1