Not quite life

I think I’ve figured it out. Well, sort of. What I mean is how I can go through life with this constant desire to die, but never the will to. It’s not that I want to be dead, it’s that I want life to go away. I want to live a life that is as close to being dead as possible, while still being alive. Does that make sense? Of course not. I just hate life and the feelings that life gives me, but I still want to be around to wish it would go away. But I guess life stripped of the troubles of life is no longer life, while a living death is nothing anyone would want to experience. It’s a black and white world. All or nothing. I’d go for all, I really would, if it wasn’t so cluttered with shit. But the nothing just seems so quiet and empty. Like a house after everyone’s moved out. But still covered with their dirt and dust and stains. I don’t know what I want. Which is why I have to write crap here. Instead of slitting my wrists, I suppose. Why do we all want to tell the world how much we hate life? I don’t know, but it feels a little better. Letting people know I exist, even if I’d rather I didn’t anymore. Funny things people.