I am at a crosspoint in my life where I can choose a myriad of roads to take, each leading to what seems a chasm of meaningless wonder, and purposefulness emptiness.
Backstory: The other day I was gazing into the ether atop my roof, seeking some sort of vision from the beyond, in hopes of bringing myself ever closer to some sort of cosmic understanding. Failing at that, the realization of my own, and everyone else's bleak lives dawned on me.
As usual, my attempts at cavorting with the homeless insane was fruitless, as all I can recall from that evening of debauchery were ramblings of madmen living on the streets hoping to find some sort of meaning in the butterflies swarming around their heads.
I came home to find my condominium in shambles; gray walls, upon black carpets, stained with dirt, blood, and probably other human fluids which I cannot bare to even think about.
I began to then wonder if this is just a temporary phase, a moment in time, where I feel this way. But the feeling never ends.
I realize that in such states time itself becomes meaningless, and so does the concept of aging, dying, and I become ever more concious of the eternity laid before me. A bleak, pointless, careless eternity full of nothing but the gray walls, and black carpets.
Being embraced by the twenty dollar prostitute only consoled my physical needs, but my emotional self is unsatisfied. After all, the poor lass' job isn't to satisfy my spiritual cravings, but to satisfy my physical needs (and oh, by the way, she served those needs flawlessly.)
I am at a crosspoint in my life. Do I continue this path of perpetual opulence which satisfies so much of my basic needs, or do I continue to seek some sort of understanding of the bleak eternity.
Perhaps the wisdom of the anonymous internet and it's wonderful forums may help me after all.