With all that's going on in the world right now.. It's clearer now, more than ever, how so very finite life is. We (for sure I do) get so caught up in the big things small things stupid things that we rarely stop to really think about it. Then again is that really necessary? Is thinking about how short life is going to make it any longer? As a matter of a fact wouldn't I just be wasting time I'll never get back thinking about something that I can't change? What in the world am I smoking and why am I saying all this?!
I don't know. I'm such an escapist, you know? Like, a lot of the time I can't stand (yes it's that bad) reading the news because I don't like bad news. It sounds so immature and you know.. Unworldly but alas it is what it is and I'm not proud of it. Plus when I live under my pink colored zebra patterned velvet covered rock.. It's okay. It's comforting and beautiful here. The world as I know it isn't messed up and people aren't vindictive and insane and wicked and they don't punish people for their sexuality and accidents don't kill innocent people and BAD ISH DOESN'T HAPPEN. But then again I'm living in my imaginary world. With pink colored walls and zebra patterned rugs and korean pop music and nutella and jing and GOOD ISH.
I'm one step closer to being certifiably cray cray aren't I.
I don't know what's spurring me to post this at 8PM on an uneventful Sunday night but all this finality of death business is making me wonder: Should I then be making the most out of my life, being the most motivated go-getter that ever um.. Got (?) OR should I go quite the opposite route and enjoy the things, frivolous as they may be, that make me happy?
OR OPTION 3
IT DOESN'T MATTER AND IT'S TIME TO FOR ME TO GET OFF THE BLOODY SOAPBOX AND BRING THIS EPISODE OF SUNDAY SHENANIGANS WITH VA TO AN END.
I'm floating on back to kpopland where it is safe and sound and sunny and air conditioned and filled with nutella and cocktails and cocktail umbrellas and cushions and cashmere and matching outfits and underaged boys and the best kind of overzealous overanalysis. A fricking men.