Quimper (Finistère, France)
Currently, I'm feeling more bad than good. Just mentally bad. I'm not sure what to do, keeping myself busy. Some of it is important, really important, because our future depends on it. Other things are pure distraction. A slow poison that creeps into my mind over time and turns it to mush.
Time only exists to be overcome. I no longer see any meaning in life, none that I would hold onto long enough and work towards. I'm often just there. And not even properly. I go into the city, which only depresses me more. I hate this city, it robs me of any strength, of which not much is left anyway.
Once I walk along a busy street, it's narrow and dusty and loud. A woman sits at an open window and smokes. She looks at me as we pass by on the other side of the street. I wonder how she lives in there? I can't imagine it's a good life. Right on the street in this old, dirty and dilapidated house.
It reminds me of my time in southern Germany, when I lived in the old town of a medium-sized city. Those old houses with slanted roofs and walls, low ceilings and a smell of damp stone. It's depressing just to think back on it and know exactly that I had no other choice. That's probably how she feels too, she has no other choice. And this comes to mind with so many people I see here.
Currently, I'm feeling more bad than good. Just mentally bad. I'm not sure what to do, keeping myself busy. Some of it is important, really important, because our future depends on it. Other things are pure distraction. A slow poison that creeps into my mind over time and turns it to mush.
Time only exists to be overcome. I no longer see any meaning in life, none that I would hold onto long enough and work towards. I'm often just there. And not even properly. I go into the city, which only depresses me more. I hate this city, it robs me of any strength, of which not much is left anyway.
Once I walk along a busy street, it's narrow and dusty and loud. A woman sits at an open window and smokes. She looks at me as we pass by on the other side of the street. I wonder how she lives in there? I can't imagine it's a good life. Right on the street in this old, dirty and dilapidated house.
It reminds me of my time in southern Germany, when I lived in the old town of a medium-sized city. Those old houses with slanted roofs and walls, low ceilings and a smell of damp stone. It's depressing just to think back on it and know exactly that I had no other choice. That's probably how she feels too, she has no other choice. And this comes to mind with so many people I see here.