This is insanity. INSANITY. How can someone this unhappy still manage to stay alive? Shouldn't there be a threshold for unhappiness? Wouldn't it be better if our internal organs cease to function once we cross that threshold? Because clearly, there wouldn't be anything else to do once someone's spirit is sapped of hope and the desire to live. There wouldn't be any point.
Look at me. LOOK AT ME. There is nothing here. There is no tunnel, there is no path. There must have been a path once, and I think I have memories walking down that path with pride, with purpose -- but what do I do with ghosts of the past? There is nothing NOW. There is no path NOW.
The ironic thing is, rather than being granted freedom, I am weighed down by feelings of arriving at a dead end. There is no path, but there is no escape either. Bound by the rules of humanity, I am doomed to stay alive and suffer the existence of someone devoid of purpose, of will, of... love. I have no love for life -- life that has done nothing but disappoint, life that has done nothing but measure and judge and leave one wanting. I have no love for life because I have lost the ability to love.
Insane. INSANE that I am kept alive, when there are so many others deserving to live. When there are so many others brimming with dreams and ambition -- and the will and talent to achieve them, but are prevented because of circumstance, because of balance.
Claim beauty, claim vast and unimaginable beauty, all you people who walk with purpose, with reason, with something to hold on to. Claim heaven, claim hell. Everything in your life, you deserve.
It's insane that I am alive, but every minute is an affirmation that it is a life I don't deserve.
