Is this really it? All of life?
Is the meaning of life really to wake up in a country that hates you for simply existing? To live with a brain that hates itself, to go to work and be underpaid and undervalued? My inner child expected to be something like an astronaut and more than a janitor cleaning up a mess on aisle 5. The child that thought if we can all team together and make the world a better place soon turns into an adult that realizes that it’s more beneficial to the shareholders to make it worse for profit. And then I get older and everything that was there leaves me and the last person I talk to on my deathbed will be my inner monologue.
Sometimes I wish I was an idiot. Sometimes I wish I was blind. Deaf. And maybe even unconscious. Dead. So I dont have to see that life is so painful, that it doesnt really have a meaning, and see the human race turning darker by day on the television. To hear about the latest tragedy. To hear agonal breathing. I’ve decided to accept that things from now on will probably get worse because they always have and the things I enjoy will be as irrelevant as the things I don’t. I cant expect the world to change overnight and it probably won’t change significantly within my lifetime for the positive but I can learn and understand why things are the way they are I guess.
But I just need to move past looking for meaning right? To enjoy experiencing pain because it’s something to experience. Experiencing happiness to balance it out. I’ve decided to treat life as something to just experience. It makes the most sense. But it does hurt to reduce it down to that. And it comes with apathy.
And a big thing on my mind is that I’m older now. I’m getting older. Day by day. And I waste it. Or do I? What brings it value? I’m not sure, but what I am sure I hate the feeling of wasted potential. I rely heavily on external approval and attention and I can’t seem to exist comfortably by myself and feel the need to be percieved by literally everyone to feel like my life is less lonely but it never becomes enough. I care alot about my appearance and as I get older I worry about how it’s drifting away, and how I feel the only thing people ever care about is my appearance. And it’s never enough. And it’s not just positive attention i crave, it’s any at all. Once I’ve gone home to my quiet bedroom I go back to that same lonely feeling no matter what I do. It’s been upsetting me for a very long time and I’m afraid it won’t go to way and i’m worried that this is all there is. The only thing I think about consistently nowadays is death and regret. I’ve started to get nauseous looking at cemeteries because entire lives reduced to stone and a name makes me so uneasy, even moreso now that I can’t stop ruminating about that one day I’ll be under one of those no matter what I do.
I feel a deep emptiness within me, and it feels like nothing ever truly makes it go away or ever will. My biggest fear is the last thought to ever cross my brain before I become one of those stones is one of regret with the background noise of emptiness, loneliness, regret and insignificance.
I don’t know what to do for now. I guess I’ll keep moving. But it hurts. Oh god it hurts.