So many thoughts. So little time until I have to get up to go to work.

Ask Me Anything

I don`t know why I'm so afraid of death, I'm just terrified of not existing.
I can't bear the thought of ceasing to be conscious,
and never again breathing or thinking,
being forever unaware of anything.
They tell me not to worry about it,
they say that I won`t even realize it when I`m dead.
But that only makes it worse.
my mortality haunts me.
I finally get a few moments alone with happiness, serenity, satisfaction.
Then, out of the blue, it cockblocks me.
Fuck death. Fuck it.
And don't tell me that it's is inevitable and that I just have to enjoy life.
Cause I'm pretty sure I know that.
I try everyday to just live on despite the fact.
It`s not working.
What do I do?
What the hell do I do?

MC²,
Your words keep me going.
They are eloquent enough to enthrall me, yet content is never too cluttered with decor as to take away from the raw honesty that bleeds through your writing or betrays your attemps at masking the emotion in your voice. Forgive me if this sounds cliché, but I don`t know what I would do without you. I really don't. Thank-you for being there. Thank-you for putting up with this perpetual madness. It's the only thing that keeps the terror at bay. You're amazing. Stop denying that. You deserve so much more than your opinion of yourself.

Being raised french has helped me and hindered me.
The job opportunity thing is kinda cool.
But it feels as though the quality of language that I possess
has been split and divided between french and english.
It`s like failing to excell at a hobby because the other one keeps getting in the way.

I'm done my second year of university.
Yesterday was my last exam.
I didn't get my grades back, but I find comfort in the fact that I needed a 0 on all of my exams to pass my classes.
Since all of my electives so far have been second and third year, I'm taking first year music and photography this summer.

This is my closest friend and I, four years ago, at the height of our preppy, juvenile ridiculousness. His hair/sunglasses and my picnic table shorts make me laugh and wonder how we ever lived with ourselves. If you took me, made me less straightforward but more human, it would be him. He is my inspiration every time I think of having a cigarette.  A few weeks ago, I said some terrible things to him. He thanked me.