I have always thought that life wasn’t that big a deal. My entire life I have strived for one thing, to always be having a good time. But now, there are no good times to be had. What is the point of being alive? To procreate? Simply to pass on your genes and then toil away at some job and then die one day? Are we here to love and learn, help one another? I don’t believe in god, I don’t think we have souls, there are no spirits, ghosts, nothing supernatural, so I can’t take solice in that bullshit and make myself feel better that way. But it’s not even about making myself feel better. It’s about reflecting and understanding. But there is no understanding anything anymore. People will always let you down, period. Even the best ones will let you down. So what do we do? Not give a shit about anyone? Stay isolated and alone and hope we suffer less that way? That’s impractical to say the least. So what do we do?
Hope, is bullshit. Get your hopes up and almost every time they will get shot down to crash and burn. The one thing that could save me from how I feel is leaving. Just as I got my hopes up, I find out that it’s over before it starts. But the real problem isn’t that it’s over before it even starts, the real problem is that I allowed myself to get my hopes up in the first place. The samantics of what transpired are not important. Because what could have been a great thing, can’t be, or rather won’t be. Nevertheless, because I’m too stubborn, or maybe just not a quitter, I will keep trying. I guess maybe in the grand scheme I really am a glutton for punishment, but I can’t help but think that the reward is worth it. Rewards are always worth it. Aren’t they?
So what’s the point in anything? I have no friends now that my one and only brother is dead. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Who am I supposed to talk to about this bullshit. You? Your reading this shit, and I have no idea what I’m talking about. You are worse off for having read this. And while this should be cathartic, it’s not. Nothing will ever fill the hole. No one, no object, no nothing is big enough to fill the void I feel. I’m alone, even while I’m surrounded by people. He’s gone, and he can’t be, nor will I let him be replaced. So it’s over, life is shit, and all we can do is accept it, toil away, maybe do some good, love if were lucky, and then die.