Looming Indifference

goatfinished (2)

Recent weeks have seen my interest fall and my apathy rise. While I searched for a little meaning to my life, I realised, I’m never going to become a Napoleon, a Da Vinci, I won’t write an epic poem, nor will any of my sculptures be erected in a city square, I won’t be rich, I won’t sing and dance before a panel of mindless arseholes while a slightly more retarded group of people clap and boo at the slightest little action, I won’t carve a potato into a chalice and fill it with melted cheddar to present to a table of 16th century aristocratic critics while they decide whether the subtle woody texture to the cheese is enough to see me into the next round or if its just a fucking potato full of cheese, I definitely won’t go into space, and I probably won’t even learn how to swim. I will just continue to cling to the same routine for the rest of my life, like a stubborn mountain goat, aimlessly blasting itself across the mountain side with all the grace and sophistication of a potato full of cheese, but, I guess, that, in it’s own way, is my little victory?

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