Life is fleeting. The only good thing about my life is that one day, I will die. The inevitability of death is comforting, in a way. It doesn’t matter how much I fuck up because one day it will all just be over. It doesn’t matter how alone I am because one day I’ll just leave everyone behind.
I used to be scared. I was absolutely terrified of dying and what happens after. Now, I just can’t wait for everything to end. It doesn’t matter what happens after I die, I don’t care anymore. Sure, I have things I want to accomplish before I pass, but I know I never will. They’re things that a dumb kid like me will never be able to achieve. Dreams don’t come true, I’ve learned that the hard way. You decide your own fate, and I’ve fucked up beyond repair. It’d be easier to just let it all go and be done with it. Nobody would care, anyway.
I’m just so tired all the time, and my head hurts, and my stomach is weak, and I sleep even less than usual. And nobody even gives a shit. Nobody sees that I’m just fucking breaking down right in front of them. But why would they? I’ve been nothing but cruel and heartless to everyone, and I can’t even connect to those I want to care about it. I just don’t understand myself. I wish I could say something like nobody listens to me, but that’s my own damn fault, I never open up to people. God, I just wish I could be normal for once. I feel so alone all he time, and it scares me. I used to find comfort in solitude, but not anymore. I’m so fucking tired of holding on to my coffee as some sad substitute for a friend. I can only blame myself, though.
There’s like 7 billion people on the planet, it won’t matter if some whiny brat like me dies, anyway.