All my life I have tried to assign existence some sort of meaning, some sort of purpose. My existential crisis tsunamied itself into my life, devastating the house of my mind, removing my mental shelter. Ever since I then I have tried to rebuild those structures. I wanted to make them stronger, I wanted to make them impenetrable. But then I realized, there is no impenetrable defense.

It is impossible to try to rebuild that security, because a tsunami is an unstoppable force. The tsunami seeks not to destroy you, seeks not to hunt you down and murder you. No, it has no purpose. It is simply part of the equation of the system we call the Earth, of the system we call the Universe. Which is exactly what we must all come to realize.

Like a tsunami, life has no real purpose other than to exist. Life is just another part of the system. Once you realize what your existential crisis is really trying to teach you, you will realize that the tsunami isn't just a tsunami; its a gigantic wave, begging to be surfed. And you'll ride it, not because you realize you'll be otherwise killed by it, but because that is the only thing to do.

Organize, Organize, Organize
Get a lot more hardcore in Psychology
Learn how to NOT complain so fucking much
Finish the god damn house extension
Practice Guitar, get my skills back
Draw a lot
Get my fucking GAME on

I express myself using the cliches of others. if this is so, do I have a self? Where is my originality? My creativity? Is my uniqueness defined by the fact that I imitate the world around me?

I have become what I used to hate, and I hate what I used to be. Oh, the Irony of it all. If only I had known.