World War III Radio: С каждым днём ты всё больше теряешь интерес к этому (Вичуха #98)

Translation: Every day you lose more and more interest in this…

And the title fits, not so much for the music, but for about things in general. This is what war does. Enough recurring sleepless nights and everything seems the same. You wake up in the morning feeling more or less the same. You perform tasks in the same order. Make the bed. Get on your knees by the same corner of the bed and say prayers. Go to the bathroom. Make coffee. The coffee tastes the same. You sit in the same place and the cat sits with you on the same corner of the table demanding feelings that feel more or less the same as yesterday. The cat doesn’t seem to mind so maybe it’s a human problem? Hard to say.

You meditate. You journal. You think about the coming 24 hours and try really hard to keep it to that. Don’t make long-term plans and by long-term it means no further out than the next 24 hours. Don’t you dare. You drink coffee, shit, shower, get dressed, brush off a sense of dread and impending doom, wondering if this will in fact be the day that something different happens, and by different… Well, you don’t want to think about what different might mean. Despite the horror of the same it might still be worse, right? Be careful of wishing for something different. But let’s not talk about that anymore.

Is it easier for people who believe in God? The people who seem to know who and what they’re praying for? Or is it worse because they spend their days wondering why they never get an answer? That might just be the definition of Hell, to believe in God, but come to the conclusion that there’s a very good chance He doesn’t know you exist.

Heaven only knows which is worse. God makes pretty necklaces though. Or are they only pretty because of the mystery and mythology behind them, that nobody really knows for sure aesthetic?

I don’t know. I’m out of answers.

Time for the next step, the next item on the list of things to do to get moving and get out of the house every day after day.

This is what war does.

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