Future Anxiety with money and life

It's early morning. I'm here with my notebook, trying to come up with start up ideas that can make me rich. I want to be financially stable, to be able to do what I want without having to rely on my parents. Is that too much to ask? I hate it whenever I fight with my parents and it's always about money. They would call me a good-for-nothing freeloader in the house trying to escape my responsibilities. 

Now, this isn't a post about me defending myself (I'm tired of that) but rather, a post about me trying to make myself independent from them. The only way I can see that happening is to move out. But I can't move out without funds. My current job can't suffice enough funds so what I thought of at first was freelancing. I already thought of doing some freelance work while working at the trapeze, but getting a freelance job isn't as easy as I expected it to be.

My end goal is to have a business. But god, I also want to do a lot of things! like hiking, cycling, going around the country.. Jesus, I don't know what to do. Be happy now? or tomorrow? I really don't know. I feel like I just want to win the lottery or join a syndicate. 

Now, I sound like a materialistic basic bitch. Well yes, I do want the finer things in life for myself and my future children. But also, I want to be able to help others. I will not work for money, money will have to work for me. I want to help children go to school, old people in the home for the aged to live with dignity, come up with inventions that could help save the world, etc.

My mind is already set for good.

Why Satan wanted Adam and Eve to eat that apple

It's 2 am, and I can't sleep. Coffee is downstairs and I'm too scared to check up on him because he might be dead. I'll admit, the last time I saw him, he wasn't in good condition. We brought him to the vet, and they told us that if he can survive 24-48 hours, most likely he'll survive.

When Danielle and I brought down meds for Coffee, I was glad to see him wagging his tail, but his eyes were blood shot red and his poop was black. I'm no vet, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't a good indicator that he was getting any better.

I know he's not gonna make it.
It sucks that I know that.
It hurts, knowing that something will happen whether you like it or not.
And you can't do anything about it.

I wish that when I wake up tomorrow morning, I forget to check if he's still there.
Or when I go home, I don't want to remember that he's the first one to greet me after a long day.
I wish that I could forget that at one point in my life, he made me happy.

Knowing hurts.
It is both a gift and a burden to know.
Which makes me think that the less you know, the happier you'll be. Why so? because life is cruel, harsh, evil, and everything nice is just our way of compensating or keeping ourselves sane.

I could be a little more hopeful.
Maybe he'll make it.
But still, these early morning thoughts will continue to torment me in my sleep.


*For the record, I hate making bible references. This is an exemption because it was the first thing that came into my mind*