The. Fuck.

There’s too much on my plate right now. Im starting to wonder who I hate more: the people around me or myself. Fuck.

"When we are unable to find tranquility within ourselves, it is useless to seek it elsewhere"

I’m sitting here blankly staring at this screen and I’m questioning my existence. Why am I alive? Why did this certain set of particles, neurons, biological organism give me a conscious thought? I’ve lived in this world and it isn’t that much fun to be in. Sure, you laugh but how long do those laughs really last? You relive all of those moments when you were happy, but what for? You’re only left with a sense of nostalgia and longing. You’re left with more negative feelings than positive feelings. It really isn’t the happy and jolly moments which give you experience is it? It’s the pain and suffering. The trials and tribulations. The scars and the wounds. Does it make you stronger? Or does it wear you down until you just can’t handle it anymore? And if you can’t handle it, does it make you a pussy? Why do I exist? What major/minor role am I playing in society, the world, the universe? I see no point in life, except to struggle. - My two cents