Sadness

Politicians are not perfect. That’s something people need to get into their heads. People always expect answers from them on every subject known to man and they are in trouble if they can’t deliver. On every radio show and television show they do their best to fill the minute or so after every question with some good sound bites. People want answers, they demand answers but it’s impossible to know they amount of stuff they are expected to know. So you don’t get answers, you get bullshit because that’s the only realistic option. 

But then people get annoyed because politicians are always talking nonsense. That’s because you’re expecting the impossible. People need to be able to let politicians say, “I don’t know,” every now and again. Maybe the minister for transport doesn’t know how long waiting lists are in hospitals. This doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be grilled but for fuck’s sake, there is no way for them to know everything. 

Some will say they should be informed about what’s going on. Well, they can’t be, not about everything. It might be frustrating for a politician to say I don’t know but is it anymore annoying than staring at your television  screen at a politician talking and there voice in your head going, “Shut the fuck up! Stop bulshitting! Stop it. Stop it please! I’m so fucking sick of it.”

But wouldn’t politicians just take advantage of being able to say I don’t know. Of course they would. They’re people and as each day is telling me more and more people are fucking stupid creatures who instead of doing something now and having a pain for one minute will put it off knowing full well sooner or later they’re going to get a kick in the teeth. 

The world is fucked, there is no saving it so let’s just watch it burn. 

I admit I need psychiatric help. I’m not schizophrenic or anything, just deeply depressed. I don’t see the point of anything anymore. I’m not suicidal but nothing seems to be worth anything. Every hurdle the human race jumps over seems to be another on the way to a massive brick wall. 

I’m self indulgent, trying to be the greatest writer ever, not seeing the point but keeping on going anyway. I really want this life to mean something. I want to love someone, feel happiness and purpose and meaning. People talk about the meaning of life but there doesn’t have to be one. It could all just be a fucking random mess of shite, cold and lonely with no great goal line at the end of it. Life is worthless but I can’t give up. Something tells me to keep going. Is it an idiot, a trickster or a saint? Is it just a chemical reaction in my head or a divine guide? 

I want to write but journalism? No. What I really want to do is confess. Listen to me world, listen to my drama. I am here I am yours and I want something to live for. I deserve it, I am human but I am smart and I know many humans get nothing but pain and live lives meaningless from the start to the very end.

My thoughts are jumbled and my mind is a puzzle but there is nothing which says I will ever figure it out. Happiness and peace are not our destinies. I wish I believed in fate but just seems impossible.

This post may seem like I hate the world. I don’t. I just wish it was better and my gut tells me it won’t ever be. I wish I didn’t care about this stuff and just live happily on Facebook looking at pictures of fucking cats but I do care. And that’s depressing because caring about the world’s problems only increase you own.