Lazy from C-Z

There was this altercation. A woman from a faraway land tells a man halfway across the world that he was insufficient, incapable, and unalarmingly passée. He disagreed; he thought he was worth more than what he was described. But there is a truth indiscernible from the comment by the woman; there was weight to it. It could have been palpable. He could simply be misunderstood. But by the time he held his tongue, his fingers were already wriggling about and doing the work outside of his own volition. He acted by impulse, not by desire, but by a knee-jerk reaction. One that he himself would not approve, but he nevertheless allowed. Expressions are merely authenticated by the mind. Nothing escapes it unless authorised, and this was no exception. The words he slipped on to her rattled her to the core that she swept him off immediately from her life from then on out. He could not be bothered, why would he? The man felt he had done nothing wrong, that he was simply disagreeing. Later on, they...

If the intention too close to the bone, I would have already done it. Amongst so many attempts, the results always seem to default to close but no cigars. This whole effort is fatiguing, if not intoxicating in equal measures. Tired of all the resistances and the rejections and the mindgames of it all. Otherwise it would have simply been a dire misunderstanding, which is an all too common motif when it comes to me, and apparently shared amongst so many others if I were to be completely blunt. Some of the seedlings have sprouted, even in such short amount of time.

It is always a question of the when rather than the how; will I be able to sustain this or will it forever remain a farce? Boy looked dishevelled, and the seeds have all been planted and the ladies crossed, absent rizz. None have sown promise thus far; one will not be bothered. My focus needs to be redirected towards this reason for me being in this supposed holiday... of sorts. I may have some rest, but like I said, will it ever sustain? Life catches up too soon. My job is too stretch it too thin before it breaks, and once it does, pidele al diablo que me permita pagar mis deudas . There is no point in asking what it all is for, none of it ever matters, but regardless of the situation, one must make the best out of it. Priorities are what I need; the distractions are in abundance. I must needs pass what I came here to do (the light at the end of the tunnel), and fuck the requirements for now. Plans, plans, plans. We all get there eventually, but for now, this. Get to the destination. ...

  What are you crying for? What are you crying for? When it's just a feeling They are just feelings These are just feelings

If it's not so hard to understand At least see me for me If you were the wind you'd carry me To find joy and serenity If my madness can find miracles Yours is always free So release me; If it's not bogged down by tragedy It was always meant to be If the time is right we can sail away To find our melody If I can't hold on to the miracles You will still be free So believe me; If we were to play this symphony Why'd you have to flee? Because mine is yours like a reverie Deep in a deep blue sea If your madness can't cure miracles You could still be free So relieve me; If I had more time for this fantasy Believing that you'd be Mine one day as a destiny To our endless symphony If this is more madness than a miracle I'll never be set free So bereave me; 

  But where do we hear of that which most deeply inspires man; where is the innate desire to give as much meaning as possible to one's life, to actualise as many values as possible -- what I should like to call the will-to-meaning ?