I called all my friends they said nothing wrong but nothing right. They can’t handle my questions about life and death, but it’s not their fault that I’m dying tonight, not literally but mentally, thinking about life and how I’ll never get to live it without being in some haze of good or bad, moral or unethical, fat or skinny, beautiful or wretched, happy or sad, infinitely chill or clinically insane. Now, this makes it seem like I want to live in the middle, and the middle is an okay place to be, but I need more from this floating rock than the middle. Why can’t I be both at the same time, everything all at once? To lie precariously on the brink between every extreme, to be a complex and emotional human being like the universe intended me to be is the most extraordinary and unachievable concept. I need to feel everything this world has to offer and more. Why is that so out of reach? I think the true meaning of life is to live as many lives as you can in the short time that you have. To live as freely as possible and to never look back.
