I remember being at the youngest 7-8 and knowing that I was only alive because it's what my parents wanted but being confused because they didn't act like they actually wanted me to be alive and I remember that, apart from them, I didn't want to be alive at all for myself-but didn't really understand in a way I could really intellectually process. I just knew I wanted life to be like going to sleep and not waking up. Then I remember at 12 I started hurting myself and began to understand the roots of my specific emotional pain which led to looking at the bigger picture too and from there of "light bulb" moment going off of objective observation of society and the world in general, which lead to understanding that life is actually pointless, especially when it is a shitty life you are living. And I hated living- both existentially and personally. I remember trying to talk to other kids and adults, that everyone was just being "programmed" into believing that life was something we are supposed to want and enjoy and the powers that be or whatever you want to call them were purposefully attempting to make people blind to reality and succeeding. Of course, I was the crazy one. The only way life seems justified to me is if we were to get to choose it and understand the consequences and conditions of what being alive is. But that is just impossible. And I don't understand why people are not SO FUCKING ASTRONOMICALLY ANGRY that they exist without having been given a choice and educated on what that choice might mean. Of course this is impossible, so the anger is pointless, but it has been boiling under my skin ever since. I hope that makes sense.
