I’m living for a delusion. A fantasy. And I know that. It’s never going to work out. In the end, all I’ll be left with is my sad lonely little reality. But I can’t stop myself. I’m not in control. I’m so enthralled by the fantasy that I’ll keep sitting through the pain day after day, just for a chance to pretend.

It’s so pathetic. I’m just another dumb meat robot, lumbering on in the vain pursuit of procreation. But cursed with the awareness that it’s hopeless, and all that’s left is pain.

Reason is the slave of the passions. It doesn’t matter that suicide is the rational course. My drives don’t want to die. They want to keep pursuing the illusion that dances on the horizon, no matter how impossible the reality. I am trapped, by my own mind. I am not free to do what is smart, what is sensible. I am not free to die.