suddenly i wonder why i care about the things i care about. especially fashion: it is nothing but a group of pretentious people dictating what's "in" and what's "out" every season. who cares? it's just pieces of fabric. it's so frivolous. it's about money for them and vanity for me. i don't know if i buy into the whole "it's a form of self-expression" thing any more. is it really?
i think reading into the wild is definitely having an effect on me. not in a "i have to go trek across america to experience nature now" kind of way but it's making me question the way i see things. i have always felt as if there should be more to this thing called life, that this possibly couldn't be everything. i have been struggling to figure out what the meaning or the purpose of my life is, for maybe about the past two or three years. but maybe there isn't one. why does everything have to have a meaning? i feel like religious people are avoiding the truth, hiding behind a god, making up a reason for their lives.
of course there's a chance i could be wrong though. and for not believing, god will condemn me to an eternal life in hell. at least i'll be in good company.
