Terrible

Why do we have to feel so terrible?  Why do they have to drain the meaning from everything? Why the continuous demoralisation? Why can’t they let us feel good and then kill us?

They’re hoping we kill ourselves.

I just might.

 

Why do we have to live anymore? Why is it compulsory? It’s such an effort, living. Going on. But it’s not like you can stop very easily. Killing yourself’s an effort, too. I wish they’d get those death pods up and running.

 

I can’t reason. I can’t work things out. My brain doesn’t work. I can’t think anything through. There’s just his dullness. And flatness. And crushedness.

It’s like I live only in two dimensions. Like I can’t raise myself above any of this. That I’m nothing other than any of this. Except the awareness that this is what I am.