Mind Diary

so a few more blank pages hey. i dont know what it is about writing, i really enjoy it. but quite often i get stumped by it. or just write meaningless babble. pretty much like right now. but i felt like i had to put something down. all the blank pages are blinding me. i have been living like a cross between hunter s. and bukowski recently. tons of self loathing, a lot of beer and an extremely negative outlook on my fellow men and woman. has this whole fucking world gone mad or am i just the only who does not see what the rest are seeing. perhaps this is why i have been blinding myself with drink and far too little sleep. numbing my brain so it cant see the daily waste and hatred all around me. where has all the love gone? i often wonder if it was ever there to begin with. maybe it was just made up in the mind of a dreamer. who handed it down to other dreamers. but i dont see it. i dont feel it. i feel the lack of it. but never the real thing. could it be that i have been broken too many times and that part of me just does not register anymore?