doesn't make sense

I'm thinking about you and it doesn't make sense. You don't make sense. I'm watching the Olympics all day, every day, and they don't make sense. The most confusing part is the gymnast mens' shoulders. Around and around...Are they elastic? Are they human? I'm watching the news, I'm watching the death. Death in Syria and war over things that don't make sense. Death doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense but it still happens. A soldier who goes to war for a noble cause, only to die, that doesn't make sense. When bad things happen to good people, that doesn't make sense. Which is why you can't trust karma. Because the results aren't accurate, they aren't reliable, they aren't solid. Karma doesn't make sense. Men who kill people, they go to jail. Jail, where they can be alone, where they are fed three meals a day without earning money. They can write, they work out. And they've killed someone, and there is someone out there who has lived a perfectly good life and is digging through dumpsters for food. That doesn't make sense. The world, it doesn't make sense. They tell us what is enjoyable, what is valuable. Sex=good. Food=Bad. Diamonds=$. Souls=okay to waste. That doesn't make sense. What makes diamonds valuable? The people that buy them? The price they sell for? That they are hard to find? Are they any more beautiful than flowers, dragonflies. That doesn't make sense. Is a good man valuable? Maybe to me, not to the world. Is a good man honest? Maybe to me, not to the world. That doesn't make sense. To value riches over morals, that doesn't make sense. Low self-esteem, doesn't make sense. Comparing yourself to others when we were all created different, doesn't make sense. If God created us all different, isn't it almost an insult to him to try and all be the same? The world wasn't made to be monochromatic. That makes sense. Color, that makes sense. Feelings, they don't always make sense, but having them, that makes sense. Evolution, that doesn't make sense. The dinosaurs, they don't make sense. Did God just put the bones on the earth for human discovery? For the imagination. That makes sense. My thoughts, usually don't make sense. My dreams, never make sense. My writing, will always make the least sense.

again with the writing

Seemingly confused, my clock can't seem to communicate with my brain. Blinking for a moment, I can't find my lungs and my heart pounds. I'm searching for the truth, but I'm searching in all the wrong places, asking all the wrong people, turning over all the wrong stones. Somehow I tell myself its here, with them, surrounding me. The people I love are the people that the world tells me to love. The world screams in my face and tells me what is great, wonderful, terrible. The world whispers improvements and gives me reasons to complain. The world tells me what is hipster, what is prep. The world shoots nasty words at me because I only have 11 followers when, in reality, I remembered that I never really wanted anyone to read this anyway. I'm forgetting who I am and why I came. I'm forgetting the people who matter and remembering the people I tried so hard to forget. The world tells me what love is, they tell me what to think about it. Will you just kiss me already? You've been staring at me fo  I'll tell you what love is. Love is when someone you care about anyone finds something they like about you and decides to love every bit of you because of it. Love is when your heart skips a beat because they looked at you 

Who Am I kidding I know nothing about love.