Thoughts About The End

I suppose this is what we've been hurtling toward isn't it. An end of sorts. Not an end. There are no ends. Just a slow crumbling of things. There will never be an end. Things might just get worse in medium-sized increments. Six months or two years from now life will be a bit shittier and two years from then it'll be slightly worse than that and noticeably worse than life four years prior, which no one will remember or talk about by then.

Empires are meant to crumble but I didn't ask to be born into an empire. I didn't ask for any of this. All I asked for was the ability to make art and even still I was barely able to get together the motivation to do that. I did a few things I thought of on my own but mostly I have my time, energy and emotions to jobs that didn't matter because I react to my present surroundings to the fullest extent of my being. Or I would sit around and blame the rich, hate nepotism or people that didn't have to rely on shitty jobs to partially supplement their pursuit as benefactors that it would be too rude to bring up helped them along. And now it's fashionable to speak out against the wealthy. Where the fuck were you people ten years ago to make me feel less alone with my resentment at the raw deal I was given.

Had I channeled all of that into a more patient approach things might have turned out differently. As they are, now, I'm panicking to get something, anything done in the hopes that when or if we come out of this, I'll have something to show for it.

I could be wrong. I could also be right. As it is I'm stuck in the middle not knowing and unable to do anything. So I'll just sit here and record my thoughts of doom because no large picture of the near and far future is giving me any hope. I could be wrong. There's no way to know.