Rant on the state of things

Waiting for your life to feel complete and fulfilling is quite possibly the worst thing to wait for. It leaves you with a metaphysical hole whose gravity becomes increasingly stronger as time goes on. The only way to achieve fulfillment and happiness is to work towards it and hope for some sort of staying power. In the long run it ends up being the work that distracts you from your metaphysical hole. There comes a point however when you realize that your days are filled with more meaningless tasks and thankless obligations that there’s not enough time for doing things that actually make you happy. Of course the meaningless tasks and thankless obligations can distract you from your hole just the same but when you can take your brain out of the box you put it in before the shit begins for a breather its hard to feel like your moving forward. Creating something from nothing is really all we as inspired people who strive towards artistic self-validation. We all want to accomplish great things in our life yet we zero in on small personality faults and raise our noses to people who were once our friends. “Something about you must have changed cause you used to be a somewhat decent human being,” we think. Really we’re all just trying to be happy people. We’re all just trying to find some sun on perpetually rainy days. Yet some people still insist on inserting a bark-clad stick up their ass every morning before they step out the door. Rolling their eyes and scoffing when people think out loud for self-verification or when someone can’t remember how many sharps are in G# Minor.
Assigning a rant is a very hit or miss assignment. The flow of sentences depends directly on the mood from second to second of the ranter. For a ranter who is quite tired and quite sick of some uptight, unfriendly and thoroughly unpleasant assholes. But now that said ranter has successfully ranted the aforementioned rant, he no longer cares. He steps back from his computer screen and realizes that these people probably have larger holes than most but will probably never know it. Nor will they ever know true emotion, happiness, selflessness or true love. As the ranters fingers slow and he feels unsure about the negativity he has just projected, he thinks about what can be done to curb these blights on the canvas of the human race. He then logically deduces that because his faith in the human race is strong these people must not be people at all. Yes! They must be psychic aliens that intend on exterminating the human race disgusting them all death with their pompousness.