The Insignificant

My younger self would probably find me registering to this site both trivial and selfish. Why am I selfish? Why do my peers and contemporaries deem it selfish to want to end all this? No, they’re selfish for wanting to keep the hollow vessel which has become my very being here and pretending that everything is copacetic. Well it’s not and hasn’t been for so long and for just as long I’ve been pretending everything is okay. I don’t have the will to kill myself but I desperately want out. Everyday is exactly the same. Sure we can try to throw spontaneity in place of the daft stasis but it doesn’t truly take away the ailments. Everything is becoming insignificant. I find no joy in any of it. Daily responsibilities and my young adult life choices are becoming transparent. I’m on autopilot and though I may reciprocate in simple formalities and conversation with people, it’s simply an automated reply. I wish I had the will to end my consciousness, I romanticize the very thought of it. Instead I patiently wait for it’s mercy. It doesn’t matter. Many feel the same way I do. Millions of people crying underwater. Everyone is a victim. I’m no different. No catalyst, no martyr. The sun will hit my window tomorrow and I’ll awake the same way. Waiting for resolve.