Yyeeessssss

yyeeessssss

not a moment, not a single synaptic microsecond goes by where my brain cells aren't humming "can you feel the rush? if so..."

// Art: “Paysage” by Henri Mauperché

“The paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor.”

— Victor Hugo, “The Man Who Laughs”

I am never happy, I am only ever distracted, at varying degrees, from a persistent sadness.

-penned by j. m. medna (2024)

no one gets me, or will ever get me, like my pinterest algorithm

As much as my heart flutters, I'm worried the destiny is jealous of us

- 'Serendipity' by Jimin (of BTS)

I just want it to feel right, for it all to click, for life to make sense. But there's no single, all-encompassing answer to life, no apparent rhyme or reason. I'm just tired of it all feeling as though I'm on the margins, behind glass, looking in. As though I'm observing my existence, rather than experiencing it. I don't really know what I want from my life. I think I assimilate the common wants and desires of others; travel, luxuries, relationships, success because it seems like the common thing to want. If everyone wants it, it must be worth it, right? Perhaps I've convinced myself that if I were to obtain power and wealth, I'd grow desirable in such a way that I would not have to fake my identity or personality to get people to stay. Their want for my assets would keep them interested, whereas when it's just me, bared and stripped, it's so hard to predict the fickle interest of others. People use you and dispose of you if you're insignificant, invaluable.

I wonder what it's like to feel powerful; to be desired; to be wealthy beyond your years. Does it offer you freedom from trivial worries?

-penned by j. m. medna