I feel empty today. It’s not depression or anger, just emptiness.
I feel as if nothing matters anymore. I
‘m telling myself I don’t want to draw today, though I know I should.
I don’t see the point in being alive today. I am not suicidal, just aware that I don’t feel alive.
I feel like this because I’ve grown complacent. I am complacent because I am alone. I am alone because I am afraid. I am so scared because life has no meaning.
Life has no meaning because we must assign meaning to it ourselves. And even then, we still don’t know what we want. I still don’t know what I want.
I know I want to be happy. But that’s not enough. I still can’t answer ‘what is happy?’. I know it’s not something I can buy, but I know it is something I am not.
Being alive today makes me unhappy.
Why?
Because I am alone, and I have accepted being alone. I would love very much to put my trust in others, but I won’t.
I have not addressed how life has hurt me. My existence criminalized to maintain the illusion of hierarchy. I don’t like my position in the order.
I don’t like being a commodity. I hate being a thing. I am seen as a thing.
Social isolation is an indignity I wish on anyone.
Once again, we’re back to nothing.
Why is this the best our Species can do?