moodrings
Member
- May 28, 2023
- 6
I have never seen myself living past 18. Not even when I was younger thinking of the future, my thoughts were always cut at highschool. Now that I'm actually here, becoming a junior soon— I believe I understand why. I have always known I was different from most, not in the stupid cliche way— but in the way that I will never get the chance to be myself, to feel some sort of normalcy. People similar to me are being outlawed and murdered, all I can do is sit and watch. It's sort of like I had always known my end.
I have friends. It isn't that I don't like them, it's just that I am afraid they will never see me as the person I claim to be. I'm afraid they see me the way I see myself.
Is that weird? Is that so terrible to think?
I think I was afraid because I could so clearly see my own demise and the fact it had been constructed by no one but myself.
Victims are the most beautiful aspect of life. As they are living proof no one cares.
No matter how hard you try, how obvious the pain can be, no one will care.
They will mock your pain, they will say you're faking it. But once you prove to them you cannot go on anymore, once you finally leave. Then, all the sudden they care.
I have always prayed for some sort of terminal disease to attack me, so I wouldn't have to feel so selfish about my decision.
It would give a reason behind my death, it would make things simpler in my eyes. Statistically speaking, those similar to me are 7.6x more likely to attempt and or commit. Those similar to me are the least likely to feel any sort of happiness in their lives.
Now, what feelings do you suppose I'd have when I learn that no matter the circumstance, I will never feel joy nor normality for as long as I live?
The fact that no matter the state nor circumstances, somehow, I will always be fully convinced I am the worst person on this planet. And— no matter the warnings, no body will ever seem to care. Because— what is my life if not an entire circus act?
Every time I am asked what I will do in the future my answer has always been the same. "I dont know."
Because the truth is, my dream has always been to become a star. Not famous, but one next to the moon. A star surrounded by millions of other stars. A star, because people will only ever see my shine, never my flaw. I like to think I already am one, a star bound by gravity, a star forced to live in the shape of a human.
Who am I kidding.
Stars are beautiful inside and out.
My entire purpose, my existence here has been a poor attempt at make people smile. It is a poor attempt to bring back jesters.
Or maybe— it is because a part of me feels as though I had been born 'bad.'
Taking up space means taking it away from others.
Some part of me hopes that somehow I will eventually find a purpose for my existence. I have always been told I'm not patient, but I feel like I have waited long enough for some sort of reason for life.
If god truly does exist, I just need to ask one simple thing.
Why?
Was my past self truly so terrible I must live in this body? Was my past self so awful that I have been cursed with being this monster I am? Why can't I be normal? Why can't I stay the way I was born without this ideation of the end?
I don't think this life was meant for me, and I don't think I ever will.
I will live until I graduate, but I will leave this now incase all fails.
The only thing this life has taught me is that nothing matters. We are all small pieces in this world, and when something extraordinary comes around, we will be even smaller pieces. We are all shattered, absurd people.
Eliminate Hope. Eliminate your dreams.
Because nothing matters
Nothing matters, so please, just be kind.
Because even though life is meaningless, you can still create meaning out of nothing, I was just not strong enough to do so.
I have friends. It isn't that I don't like them, it's just that I am afraid they will never see me as the person I claim to be. I'm afraid they see me the way I see myself.
Is that weird? Is that so terrible to think?
I think I was afraid because I could so clearly see my own demise and the fact it had been constructed by no one but myself.
Victims are the most beautiful aspect of life. As they are living proof no one cares.
No matter how hard you try, how obvious the pain can be, no one will care.
They will mock your pain, they will say you're faking it. But once you prove to them you cannot go on anymore, once you finally leave. Then, all the sudden they care.
I have always prayed for some sort of terminal disease to attack me, so I wouldn't have to feel so selfish about my decision.
It would give a reason behind my death, it would make things simpler in my eyes. Statistically speaking, those similar to me are 7.6x more likely to attempt and or commit. Those similar to me are the least likely to feel any sort of happiness in their lives.
Now, what feelings do you suppose I'd have when I learn that no matter the circumstance, I will never feel joy nor normality for as long as I live?
The fact that no matter the state nor circumstances, somehow, I will always be fully convinced I am the worst person on this planet. And— no matter the warnings, no body will ever seem to care. Because— what is my life if not an entire circus act?
Every time I am asked what I will do in the future my answer has always been the same. "I dont know."
Because the truth is, my dream has always been to become a star. Not famous, but one next to the moon. A star surrounded by millions of other stars. A star, because people will only ever see my shine, never my flaw. I like to think I already am one, a star bound by gravity, a star forced to live in the shape of a human.
Who am I kidding.
Stars are beautiful inside and out.
My entire purpose, my existence here has been a poor attempt at make people smile. It is a poor attempt to bring back jesters.
Or maybe— it is because a part of me feels as though I had been born 'bad.'
Taking up space means taking it away from others.
Some part of me hopes that somehow I will eventually find a purpose for my existence. I have always been told I'm not patient, but I feel like I have waited long enough for some sort of reason for life.
If god truly does exist, I just need to ask one simple thing.
Why?
Was my past self truly so terrible I must live in this body? Was my past self so awful that I have been cursed with being this monster I am? Why can't I be normal? Why can't I stay the way I was born without this ideation of the end?
I don't think this life was meant for me, and I don't think I ever will.
I will live until I graduate, but I will leave this now incase all fails.
The only thing this life has taught me is that nothing matters. We are all small pieces in this world, and when something extraordinary comes around, we will be even smaller pieces. We are all shattered, absurd people.
Eliminate Hope. Eliminate your dreams.
Because nothing matters
Nothing matters, so please, just be kind.
Because even though life is meaningless, you can still create meaning out of nothing, I was just not strong enough to do so.
