When I was a kid, there was a popular book called the Big Joke Game; in it, a devil-like creature guided a kid through a life-size board game. This little piece of existentialism affected me. It was probably my first realization that life can be nothing more than a Big Joke, a game that some malevolent creator made to toy with humans. I want out every single day. I feel ashamed, then I am embarrassed that I have spent much of my life thinking about ending that very life. Yet I didn’t ask to be born; why shouldn’t I decide when I die?
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