Just another excerpt of my sad life

How… how am I supposed to continue? How am I supposed to continue when all of the sources of life that I had have all dried out? Point? What point? We live and then return to the grave. I’ve given a soul when no one else has rather than going along with it like everyone else, and now I see there was no point to a single thing we did. It was just a grade. A class. A diploma. A job. And now? Now it is a grave. I’m six feet under, but apparently I’m buried in glass because no one notices. Not a single soul except, perhaps, for me. I can handle being alone, but I don’t want to be. I want to feel love again, not the regret and anguish I feel. I want to feel powerful, not the spite that seeps into my words and emotions, I want to feel alive and purposeful again, but all I feel is a gray slate that is pulling me further and further into an ocean of stone. I’d love to express this emotion more often than this, but I’m afraid the ocean is too deep for that. I’d love to go back to an age of wonder without all the business of the world tied with money, greed, want and knowledge for power. I want to know simply to know. To understand the world and be content. I see it, the world, and I mourn for everything it has become and could be. I have the ability to change it, but would I put it above my own happiness – a simple life? What am I supposed to do? I’ve cried out to the universe and all I hear is silence. I feel as though my very life is a prison. There is literally no escape except for death. But even then, is that really an escape. What lies beyond the grave is far too unknown for the human mind to even begin to understand the truth of it all. With that being known, it’s really a transition to either nothing or a place that could be worse or better, a different type of prison entirely. So yes. My life is a prison and I will never act to get to the transition that will inevitably occur lest it first finds me. Yet still, in an ocean of stone will I wait forever till I either die of this depression or something helps me escape this first prison: my mind. The ocean of stone. For if nothing does, I look forward to the future of my further disparity. And even as I write this, I know for a fact either a. No one will do anything and I will continue on in this path, or b. Someone will come, try and yeet me out of it, it’ll work for a time, before continue as stated. How I look forward to death.