Have you ever just stopped and looked around for a minute? What the hell are you doing? What is this? This seems like such a joke. I worthlessly drain, surrounded by my own filth and consumer packaging. What things do you see that are truly giving any pleasure? What of that pleasure? It never seems to have been that good or worth its inevitable trouble to get or the consequences of its indulgence.
Look at each item. Pause and read its story. Where did it enter your life and why? You don’t need that shit. It isn’t doing anything for you now, it barely did anything before, but you had to have it. This is your life focus. This empty can is the reason you woke and fought through a day. This pack of cigarettes and its twenty individual containers of euphoric relaxation is the reason you struggle and cry. You became a hardworking man for this phone.
This is not life. This is not feeling.
