I think people that say everything happens for a reason are trying to convince themselves that they made the right decision. I mean, is it really possible for everything to have a point? For instance, did my manager need to tell everyone I work with that I have a crush on my coworker?
No. Not at all.
But did he do it? Of course he did. That's just what he does.
Today, I decided that I'm going to make a snow fort. Tomorrow. By myself, of course, because being grounded is seriously impacting my social life. Also, homework and whatnot. I want to reorganize myself. I think I'll start by cleaning my room.
I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom, glaring at the drafty window, yet too lazy to move away from the cold. My fingers are numb from guitar and texting and typing. I'm not sure if I'm depressed or content-they seem to be the same thing nowadays. That's one of the tides of life, I guess.
I believe that the universe has a hand in the happenings of the earth. I just don't think every little thing has a purpose in life. It's easy to look back and make vague connections with the past and reality, but is that fate? Or is that man's desperate need for explanation?
The name is Nik.
"Then, all of a sudden, something very spooky started happening. Every time I came to the end of a block and stepped off the goddam curb, I had this feeling that I’d never get to the other side of the street. I thought I’d just go down, down, down, and nobody’d ever see me again."
-Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye
I think people that say everything happens for a reason are trying to convince themselves that they made the right decision. I mean, is it really possible for everything to have a point? For instance, did my manager need to tell everyone I work with that I have a crush on my coworker?
No. Not at all.
But did he do it? Of course he did. That's just what he does.
Today, I decided that I'm going to make a snow fort. Tomorrow. By myself, of course, because being grounded is seriously impacting my social life. Also, homework and whatnot. I want to reorganize myself. I think I'll start by cleaning my room.
I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom, glaring at the drafty window, yet too lazy to move away from the cold. My fingers are numb from guitar and texting and typing. I'm not sure if I'm depressed or content-they seem to be the same thing nowadays. That's one of the tides of life, I guess.
I believe that the universe has a hand in the happenings of the earth. I just don't think every little thing has a purpose in life. It's easy to look back and make vague connections with the past and reality, but is that fate? Or is that man's desperate need for explanation?
