My existence is utterly meaningless.
I don’t believe existence, itself, is meaningless. I don’t think I’m *that* much of a nihilist. Other people mean something to other people. I witness it, and it’s beautiful. I watch from afar as people are celebrated for being themselves surrounded by people they love and who love them. There’s beauty in this world. Other things mean things to other things. The natural world is beautiful. I am only a witness.
I am a void that can move, consume oxygen and resources and shit and piss.
I have no value as a person. I hate talking. I hate socializing. I have no personality. I don’t know know to connect with other people. I don’t know how to be “chummy.” I don’t know how to make jokes. I don’t know how to be witty. I don’t know how to have intellectual conversations. I’m not funny or interesting. I don’t know how to be in a relationship. I don’t know what it truly means to connect to another person. I don’t know what any of that means.
All I do is observe and feel things. Blank stare. Internal screaming. I don’t know how to identify my feelings. I don’t know how to put my feelings and experiences and thoughts into words. I have absolutely nothing to say. Ever. In any situation. I don’t know how to be a human being I this plane of reality. All I do is drain people’s energy who dare to get close to me.
I exist like a ghost. I don’t believe I’m capable of getting better and I don’t want to exist like this any longer.