I don’t get what’s happening—I feel like a blur. I’m no longer part of anything, more so really, I no longer want to be part of anything. I think I’m losing myself, or at least the sense of myself. It’s like I’ve lost purpose.
Sad thing is, I can’t be angry. This isn’t anyone’s fault, it’snot even mine.
What do your emotions compensate for in the absence of anger? Is it pain? Is it really? Or is it just that—an absence? Isn’t that all the more frightening than pain—losing the ability to feel?
What is it about—this whole thing? What is it about?
I know I remember saying that the human race was put here only to fit the purpose of existing. I remember telling myself I could deal with that—but I don’t want to just exist. I want to live.
And it is so depressing realizing that all I will ever come to have to call a legacy was the fact that I existed. That isn’t much. Oblivion, my friend.
What is the point? I give up being the happy person. I’ll be what my baser self tells me to be. I’m done being on the emotional and moral high ground. I’m done being a better person for other people. I want to be left alone to be what we were all supposed to be—mediocre.