Elisabeth Pfeffer

I can’t seem to shaking this growing sense of despondence. Like all of existence, everything, is all just one big joke that we are all falling for, convincing ourselves that there is some sort of significance to the chaos we all live in. And we, people like you and me, the artists and the poets,  we are the worst. We look for and create meaning, with our sweet nothings, our pretty words, of shape and color  we package put this chaos, this bullshit that we live in, we package it up into tight neat, little bundles, sugar coated easy to swallow pills, and shove them down the thoughts of the people looking for something to believe in. 

Being alive is as much about being happy,

As it is about being sad.

Just because you’re feeling down, miserable, hopeless,

Just because you want to die, just disappear,

It doesn’t mean at there is anything wrong with you,

It’s not a sign of failure or weakness,

You’re just not happy,

That, although that suck,

And you feel shit,

Its ok,

You’re allowed to feel that way,

So fuck anyone who makes you feel otherwise,

Fuck everyone who tells you to get over it,

Because  trust me,

Feeling anything at all,

Is better than being numb to everything.