I need to stay busy. When I'm not, I start to see things.
Those things aren't scary, just cold. The world is like that — no reason, no one cares, matter and rules, that's all. I get it. But getting it doesn't help. I still need to stay busy.
People say meditation is great — relaxing, joyful. I tried it. The moment I go quiet, everything becomes clear. Clarity makes it worse. So I don't really meditate. I'd rather be tired. Tired enough to sleep, and then there's nothing.
It's not some grand lifestyle. It just works.
I treat this world like a garden — plants, and people. Not out of love, but because a garden needs tending, and I need something to do. Or maybe I need to be needed. I haven't figured out which one it is. Maybe I don't need to.
My girlfriend doesn't understand the things I talk about. But she's there, and I think that's enough. You don't need to be fully understood. Someone next to you, handing you a glass of water — that's enough.
Sometimes I think, if you can see through all of this and still love life, that's real clarity. But the thought itself is a bit ridiculous. Loving life doesn't come from figuring things out. It's just that another day went by, you lived through it, and you watered that half-dead plant on the windowsill again. That's all.
No wisdom. Just still alive.