I must not forget:

I wrote so much more when I cared.

I don't know if I've stopped, but I've stopped caring about the same things.
Sometimes I just want to scream, rip my hair out, yelling profanities about how God cannot exist. Therefore I do not care, and I can do what ever the fuck I want to do at all times. Except not. Because once my medicine is back in my system, I care again. Maybe not as much as before. But, in some ways, I still care.

Things. Why must we all focus on things? Tangible. Unobtainable. Is that why we want them so badly? Probably.

Things. Items. Ultimately, I like them, I suppose. I want them anyhow. Not expensive, ridiculous things with "names" attached to them. Not the kind that everyone starts wanting because other people have it. I like things that I can feel. Things I can remember. Things I can create.

I like journeys. And trips. And adventures. And maybe even small or inexpensive keepsakes that will help me remember the memories. Other things, I just don't want. I don't even desire them. People tear themselves up over things. Why though?

Maybe I just rant because I don't understand it. I won't ever understand, I don't think. The most expensive things I have paid for are concert tickets, plane tickets to new places, two tattoos designed by me in order to help me when I get off track, and school related things. Oh, and probably my contributions to my friend, MJ. But those things create memories. Or help me help myself.

I just don't know why I get so angry about it. I don't think I ever will understand it, and therefore can't find meaning in it.