Last night I woke up at about
11:30 p.m. to the sounds of the computer
beeping at me incessantly. The
power had gone out. I stayed up to the
ungodly hour of 2 a.m. until the lights returned and I was able to set my
pathetic excuse of an alarm clock for 6 in the morning so as not to miss my
buss.
As the already
doomed day progressed I found myself falling into an
apathetic drain of emotion. I look in the
mirror and think of what a
mindless drone I must be to take on the opinions of the world without question or regard for how
absurd they may be. A
sheep. That is how I can be described. I am as
mindless and aimless as a sheep.
I find myself
drowned in
book after book, constantly looking for a
new outlook on life to accept or to accommodate into my own ideals. Perhaps I devour
philosophy as a means to understand
why I am standing here. How am I meant to understand it though, when most cannot be objected to, but
there is an equally witty thought that contradicts it? The constant debate of who said what and what he or she meant by it is a constant
battle of minds of people who have none, and who have nothing better to do but squabble about
giving credit too long dead philosophers when their own ideas are usually
snatched from the fools who confide in them about their thoughts before proclaiming them to the public.
Who will write what next, and whom will it be stolen from?
All the good ideas are gone, so the intelligent
outcasts of our time
find ways to rewrite what has already been said without adding anything new. Sound like any place we know?