So helpless, and at the same time so useless, in my road to be the best I can be for you and you.

I’m too dramatic.

I’m so disappointing I don’t even know why I bother interacting with people

Roger…. teach me how to be like you. Teach me, over and over and over and then perhaps I will understand.

what’s the point

Let’s face it, I only care about myself and that’s the end of the story. The greatest masterpiece biology ever churned out.

God damn just kill me already!!! I’m already the most aggravating existence ever, why isn’t anyone killing me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m tired. But thought of those who will always be more tired than me will wake me up and push me towards my obligations.

So many obligations. So many that I’ve confused which of them I wanted and which of them I carried.

18:18, or The Post I Wish I Could Make My Last

I’m supposed to be sad. But there’s nothing. Just blank, staring, just like the white walls of this room. No motivation, no blaming, nothing except the slight dredges of the spike of frustration and disappointment that has already faded away like some short reminder of what it is to be human. Constantly, always, ever present. Just a blank. Nothingness. Pure white.

So, let me ask the world, even if it will not allow me to: what is the difference between this and being dead? Isn’t it more convenient to those around me, if they’re even real, to remove the inconvenience?


A new phase of life begins.