The days are passing and I’m not living. Truly, I’m not living a thing. It looks like was yesterday that this become a new year, begun again, and I don’t remember that four months already passed. Or already passed five? The question is, my days are passing more and more fast, I see myself lost in the middle of all the calendars, dates, times, minutes and I’m not living at all. I don’t have any idea about what happened last week. If they ask me about what did I did three days ago, I’ll say that I did nothing. If they ask ask what did I did last month, I’ll say that I did nothing. If they ask me about what am I doing with my life, I’ll answer that I’m doing nothing too. It feels like when I die, this will be all that will last of me: a big, empty and vague nothing.
My life is made up of ‘I’m sorry’. I feel like I have to apologize to people, to things, to life itself. It’s like, ‘I’m sorry to be here’. I don’t want to disturb anyone.
Yohji Yamamoto (via pfoe)
Vincent Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him. Many people thought he was mad and stupid for doing so because the paint was toxic, never mind that it was obvious that eating paint couldn’t possibly have any direct correlation to one’s happiness, but I never saw that. If you were so unhappy that even the maddest ideas could possibly work, like painting the walls of your internal organs yellow, then you are going to do it. It’s really no different than falling in love or taking drugs. There is a greater risk of getting your heart broken or overdosing, but people still do it everyday because there was always that chance it could make things better. Everyone has their yellow paint.
I’m all alone…there is no one here who cares about me…I’m always left out…I guess it makes sense…I’m just boring to people, who would want to hang out or spend time with someone like me… No one.. No one at all…. :(