Involuntary

Last night I saw the movie 'Gone Girl'.

Loved it. Brilliant.

Neil Patrick Harris, amazing. He stole the movie.

But can someone please explain WTF happened at the end?! 

I ask a million questions. I want to know every nerve, muscle, and tissue of that which is important to me. Regardless. Any subject. I want to know its purpose, where it began, where it ends, and what will become of it should any fiber sever from its intended place. I want to peel it, dissect it, and examine it... intellectually, of course.

I believe in science and philosophy.

But I cannot reason, not for one minute, the purpose of our existence. The meaning of life. I cannot begin to decipher this code, this undesirable mass debris of disregarded waste, humans have become.

The doctors tell my dad to keep a positive outlook. Be optimistic. Seek reasons to live.

The amount of grief and anger I feel now, would be multiplied by infinite, if it were me.

"Your father just needs to know you're ok." She tells me.

Well,

I'm ok if he's ok.

Cancer.

Dad calls the shots. I just keep myself busy until he needs me.

Busy. Distracted. Amused. Occupied.

Lunch with Aramis at Brats Brothers. Studying French. Going to the movies...

You tell me what to do because I certainly don't know. I don't know what to feel, what not to feel, how to behave, what to say, what not to say.

I'm leaving for Europe next year, in hopes of finding something I cannot find here. History. Culture. Passion. Energy. Perhaps. A reason for life. A grain of understanding for the meaning of it all.

Whatever depths temporarily satisfied as a kid with art and literature, no longer satisfies.

It goes beyond boredom.

Nothing, no one, holds my attention anymore.

It's all become so... Mechanical.

Unconscious. Unfeeling.


And now... Add to that... This terrible sadness.