I wonder a lot, even as I live about what it's like to be dead.  I come to that there isn't that many big differences, but questions to be asked.

I trudge through my life and work tirelessly for others.  I haven't found enough of a use for my time so I may as well waste it productively.  A good doormat has perfect attendance and never calls in sick.  

Violence is a brief yet often permanent fix for a problem.  I contemplated what good a bullet in the brain would do and I didn't come up with anything really good but at the same time...it's something that simply cannot be ignored.

The question is never "are you okay?" but "is this something I'll need to get off of my behind to deal with?"  I say that because I never hear it, not because I never ask it.

Truth is arbitrary, not absolute.  If it were absolute then there wouldn't be different versions and we wouldn't need judges to tell us what we see.

I wonder if angels feel bitterness, and if they're so perfect does it still taste bad?

I thought about it and came to the conclusion I can't blame them for me being unhappy but I can believe it all I want.  That's free, even if it's not worth half of the hassle.

I realize that there has never been anything that I can't walk away from, that's why my life isn't worth living.  At the same time, that is a lot of walking left to do.