caotic_realm
Member
- Jun 25, 2026
- 65
I feel very lonely within my family, even though there are several of us. There have been very serious disputes caused by my mother; this has widened the rift between us, and the loneliness has multiplied like mist at daybreak.
I sometimes read people saying that working—or simply doing something—keeps the mind occupied, preventing it from dwelling on "useless" thoughts; yet, to me, this seems like a deception—a rather childish trick. After all, most people are kept tethered to jobs that turn their time and effort into money—money they must use to pay for their lives, their entertainment, and their "happiness"—only to end up feeling dissatisfied and unfulfilled nonetheless.
My life isn't exactly exciting enough to make me think that what I'm missing—to feel more thrilled—is friends or a girlfriend; after all, the two friends I do have (who are just as antisocial as I am) are all I need, and they truly understand my situation. I'm even certain that if I were to commit suicide, they wouldn't be surprised or weep in grief, because deep down they'd know I had finally found the peace I'd so desperately longed for—something I'd been missing for a long time. As for having a girlfriend—whenever I tried (in hopes of finding happiness), I was always rejected; they preferred other guys and found me unattractive, and I don't blame them. There are others whose lives might seem more interesting on the surface, yet the emptiness within won't become apparent until the fun runs out completely.
It is when I fantasize about dying or when I am dreaming that I feel most free. I feel life as chains wrapping around my body—my arms, my legs, my torso; they are a heavy burden, a source of discomfort that denies me peace and freedom. When I think of death, those chains vanish and transform into wings... wings I will one day use to fly freely to the farthest reaches of the universe, to that place where death is everything, and nothing in this life can compare to it.
I sometimes read people saying that working—or simply doing something—keeps the mind occupied, preventing it from dwelling on "useless" thoughts; yet, to me, this seems like a deception—a rather childish trick. After all, most people are kept tethered to jobs that turn their time and effort into money—money they must use to pay for their lives, their entertainment, and their "happiness"—only to end up feeling dissatisfied and unfulfilled nonetheless.
My life isn't exactly exciting enough to make me think that what I'm missing—to feel more thrilled—is friends or a girlfriend; after all, the two friends I do have (who are just as antisocial as I am) are all I need, and they truly understand my situation. I'm even certain that if I were to commit suicide, they wouldn't be surprised or weep in grief, because deep down they'd know I had finally found the peace I'd so desperately longed for—something I'd been missing for a long time. As for having a girlfriend—whenever I tried (in hopes of finding happiness), I was always rejected; they preferred other guys and found me unattractive, and I don't blame them. There are others whose lives might seem more interesting on the surface, yet the emptiness within won't become apparent until the fun runs out completely.
It is when I fantasize about dying or when I am dreaming that I feel most free. I feel life as chains wrapping around my body—my arms, my legs, my torso; they are a heavy burden, a source of discomfort that denies me peace and freedom. When I think of death, those chains vanish and transform into wings... wings I will one day use to fly freely to the farthest reaches of the universe, to that place where death is everything, and nothing in this life can compare to it.
