Everything in the world is meaningless and there is no way to gain eternal happiness. I hate it because of that. I hate it all so much. The Lord calls this ‘life’ as mercy only because for those of use who have unfortunately stumbled upon the truth about existence and meaning, it makes the kind embrace of death all the more sweet; like a kind person giving candy to a child after the child drank a bitter syrup. I hate it all so much I don’t even care anymore. The only reason I react to anything at all is because of habit. I would ask God to please have mercy on me but I imagine even He has his limits; for I am not one to be forgiven. You could say that: Everyday, my eyes are less and less glowing, and neither of us like where this is going. Knowledge truly is a curse. How does it feel like knowing that every time you’re happy, it will eventually end? People always say that you should not be lazy since it is a waste of time. Kinda ironic since work is also a waste of time. I hate it all so much. Existence truly is suffering. Imagine if a human had created a being that is in agony for every moment of its existence. Logically, the creator would be blamed. What is the case with God? I don’t know. All I want is for Him to go a point before my creation and prevent it from ever happening again. I would join a religion, because it is supposed to help people cope, but I am too far gone. I am too self-aware to fake it all. My heart always feels like it is being broken it two. I constantly have a pit in my stomach. Every day is a blur. Save me. Save Me. Whatever you do: Please, see right through me and save me for all that is worth. Or maybe I am just overthinking stuff. Who knows? Not me. I don’t know anything. I would say that willpower is what keeps me going, but apparently that was one of the first things to die along with my spirit. I live only because my physical form forces me to. I do have a few moments of happiness where I can find solace from the hurtful jabs of reality, if you can even call it that. Aftter all, what good is reality if it one day ceases to exist just like fiction? My existence is not only suffering for myself but also others. I wonder when I will, for the first and last time, find the courage to do the thing I know is best for everyone, including me. Look right through me because I do not care. Save me because I cannot be bothered to. I do not know whether demotivation can be translated into inability, but if it can be: save me because I cannot.