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Writer's pictureMarc Nolan

The death of optimism


There's apparently 8 billion people on this imaginary planet and I really prefer not

To spend hardly any time with any of them


Excitement isn't fun anymore


It's more of chore, an effort


The efforts for keeping the rotation for a material designed life going is unaffordable now


Sweat, tears and hard work for what please? For keeping an illusion going?


An illusion (a dream) that has no real substance, enjoyment to it


Now the obviousness of the dream is that the dream is empty, it has no real quality to it

It's not serious or fun, it's not really entertaining, there's nothing to get

No real flavor to anything


Tiredness and being grumpy or irritated is this as well


That's what is apparently arising here


The energy here isn't fuss in doing hardly anything right now


There's nothing to really talk about or do, no interest in exercise or even eating


Everything goes


Even the one's you love, really love, even that relationship, the one you was apparently in love with, how did that change so much? What happened there?


I have no idea, I'm not even sure what love is anymore







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