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Description
Mindless Self Indulgence in a cold lifeless world

I sit here in my room, dwelling on my own selfish desires.
Passing the time by surfing the web and chatting with friends.
What is the purpose of this extraneous life that I live day to day,
thinking of only myself in this secluded and meaningless life.

I worry and upset over my normal problems that occur in anyone’s
every day life. Then I go out into the world and realize that my petty
worries are nothing. I open my eyes and see what real sorrow and
pain is. People with no money or food, digging through trash cans
and going from place to place in search of any trace or element of food.

Then I ask myself, should I feel sorry for these people? Did they put themselves
into their own lifeless tribulation? Did they ruin their lives with worldly obsessions,
or were they truly condemned into their misfortune? One can never be certain.
Nonetheless, I cannot help myself from felling at least a small bit of compassion for these people that have no life. Peering into their afflicted lives turns my frivolous annoyances into nothing.

Is their a purpose to this cold lifeless place we call our world and live in everyday,
thinking of no one but ourselves? What compels us to continue living in this world of calamity and distress? We attempt to replace the knowledge of our worthless lives with anything possible but can we really call this a life? Can we really continue living these counterfeit lives day to day knowing that they are empty and insignificant?

Description
Mindless Self Indulgence in a cold lifeless world

I sit here in my room, dwelling on my own selfish desires.
Passing the time by surfing the web and chatting with friends.
What is the purpose of this extraneous life that I live day to day,
thinking of only myself in this secluded and meaningless life.

I worry and upset over my normal problems that occur in anyone’s
every day life. Then I go out into the world and realize that my petty
worries are nothing. I open my eyes and see what real sorrow and
pain is. People with no money or food, digging through trash cans
and going from place to place in search of any trace or element of food.

Then I ask myself, should I feel sorry for these people? Did they put themselves
into their own lifeless tribulation? Did they ruin their lives with worldly obsessions,
or were they truly condemned into their misfortune? One can never be certain.
Nonetheless, I cannot help myself from felling at least a small bit of compassion for these people that have no life. Peering into their afflicted lives turns my frivolous annoyances into nothing.

Is their a purpose to this cold lifeless place we call our world and live in everyday,
thinking of no one but ourselves? What compels us to continue living in this world of calamity and distress? We attempt to replace the knowledge of our worthless lives with anything possible but can we really call this a life? Can we really continue living these counterfeit lives day to day knowing that they are empty and insignificant?