I’m pretty damn shallow. Horribly so. Which is probably what comes from spending more time watching tv than with real people. Anyway…
The things in life I deem meaningful are beyond me. They are for other people. Those less fucked up. My family, distant relatives, former friends, past acquaintances. Anyone with their shit together and a relatively clear conscience.
So what now? I should dedicate my life to helping others find the happiness that I can’t. But I’m far too selfish for that. My mind just won’t let go of the impossible. I ultimately don’t care about anyone but myself. Why should anyone else be happy if I can’t get what I want? It’s such a shitty attitude, but it’s the way I feel.
Do I want to die? Not really. Do I want to live like this? Not really. So I’m in limbo, just taking up space. No chance of getting what I want in life, no motivation to get anything really useful done, unable to just let go and end it. I wish I could feel real peace. It’s been so long since my mind was at ease. Since I could just be in the world without feeling that something is terribly wrong. Now everything is an effort. I have to constantly struggle to force myself to accept how fucked things are.