I see the strings that control the system

I should be angry. I should want to burn everything down and then piss on the ashes. I should want to breathe smoke.

For whatever reason I don’t. I guess it’s a sign of maturity. I keep trying to get mad, thinking about it over and over. Rehashing it in my brain trying to find a way to make it illicit that hate. Listening to angry music, but still nothing.

I’m definitely less motivated now, but I don’t think the two are related. I’m never particularly motivated, my big problem in life. If it don’t come easy, it ain’t never going to come at all. (There are a few exceptions but it’s normally true)

I guess I’ve been beaten and bloodied enough to just accept whatever is given now. It’s not worth the frustration and pain. The ability to let that, which does not matter, truly slide. It’s like some sort of higher plane of existence, one step closer to enlightenment.