out of place

before i started off with my impossible task of reading war and peace i actually had just started said's out of place. i will return to that book one day, i know that, but that's not the point i'm trying to make, the point is i have this feeling of not having a point a way of not fitting in a way of feeling out of place--all these people swirling around with happy faces i swear god i neevr felt more stranger to them in my life--it's not misery or anything i'm perfectly fine even joyful had good days and better nights last week (including a bottle of wine and dancing under the pouring rain--poetic stuff) but it still doesn't feel right--i go i travel i laugh but i never make anything mine--these are not my friends this is not my place these are not my days

i don't know what it is. i just know it's in my stomach. this forceful tastelessness this way of existing without really existing as if doing a favor to all those others going through the motions and all

not even songs not even songs seem to be able to fix it

damn you great russian men who wrote the most beautiful words only to ruin my life 100 times evert day