Apathy as a small victory.

Not looking through to what's on the other side of the glass, I know the sky is blue. The sky is an unforgiving blue and I'm smoking designer cigarettes I can't really afford, drinking what only looks like black coffee. There's something in the water that makes coffee taste like cardboard. And I'm apathetically thinking how I'll probably turn out to be nothing. My reasoning is: there are only seven notes, only five primary colors, only twenty-six letters, and I believe you know where this is going. Variety is limited. The song you dream of writing has probably been written by somebody else a hundred times over. The painting you'd like to paint is in some gallery somewhere, possibly a million times better than you could have ever dreamed of painting it. Your words, they're like a teen-age's half baked attempt at writing, having just discovered Nietzsche and Nine-Inch Nails. Mildly put. Do you still think you need to save yourself from apathy?

What I'm doing is waiting for something. For inspiration to hit me like a violent electric shock. Or for it to hit me like a rock, I'll have it any way. It'll turn me into some late-blooming Mozart. A precocious Picasso. I could be the next Sophia Loren. Maybe I'll get myself a hobby, be crazy-shit creative and everybody will think me a genial artist. In turn, I will start socializing with affluent and influential people, engaging in mindless, meaningless copulating that will push me even further up the social ladder.

I could publish a book. I would obviously write it in some annoying slang, presumptuously believing it will make it 'different'. I'll write in circumlocutions and have people believe me a literary genius. See what I just did, right there?
"What seems to be the self-representing, ever expanding variety of emotion in the human being appears to be of inversely proportional importance to the elocutionary potential of a tooth-brush"
What makes no sense-we immediately consider to be beyond us. Mostly, when something sounds like nonsense, it's because it is.

I'm thinking, if all else fails, and I'm still un-hit and uninspired, I'll become a librarian. I'm really good at suggesting books to people. I can quote crap from books like it's an Olympic sport, I'm that good. In my room, what's not taken up by my bed, is taken up by scraps of paper with random quotes scribbled on them. I don't even know why I write them down because I rarely ever use them, but it's comforting: knowing that I could just bend down and pick up and answer to at random. There is safety behind words when they're not yours. I read somewhere, that quotation is a substitute for wit, a short-cut for not thinking. I happen to know that this is absolutely true. I have this written down somewhere, too. How much you read and remember is not how much you know. I happen to read a lot but can't seem to know anything of substance.

What I know is that I'm waiting for something to happen. Something that'd make me different. A never seen before variation of some other variation. What I know is that apathy can save you from despair. Sometimes.