Have
you ever craved social interaction to the point you feel hollow without it?
Have you ever gotten to the point in life where the only
time you can truly live freely is when you’re off the high of laughing at jokes
that you don’t even find funny and feeling emotions so strong and real, yet all
the same emotions that aren't even yours?
It also becomes sad moments when you're the last person online, and
suddenly you feel so, so, so alone, simply and utterly alone, that there’s no
other word to describe just how lonely it feels. When you see your lone green
dot next to your own name and you know, you think, “I’m the last one awake. I’m
the last one up wasting my life away with nothing worthwhile.”
Yes, it is quite a lonesome feeling to feel.
Sometimes, you lie awake at ungodly hours contemplating
theories about reality and the universe and humanity as you know it. Theories
that are pure blasphemy and random words that spew from the depths of your
useless brain, theories that you know aren't technically scientific enough, yet
make so much sense that they make no sense at all.
Sometimes, you ponder about other people, and how much you
matter to them. Whether or not their lives would be significantly changed if you
were to just vanish someday. Or what if you simply weren't born at all? How
would they live then? Would those who say they need you in their life be any
different had your existence never been anything that existed at all? Would
they feel an unreasonable emptiness at sporadic times or would you find that
the universe could, had, and did replace you as an entity, and they became
better off without your being existing as a whole?
Sometimes, do you
glance at the clock, read the ticking numbers, and think to yourself how much
of an utter fool you are to still be up, awake, and spouting nonsense to people
you can’t see, people who don’t even exist, and yet all the same imaginary
creatures who you need in order to stay relatively sane enough to survive here.
It raises the questions like, why do you still do this to yourself, to your
body, when you know you’re sick and tired and craving rest, and why do you skip
meals and eat trash. It raises the thought of do you really have the right to
hate your body, to hate your stupidity, to hate your mistakes and regrets and
all those times you acted unwisely, when it’s truly all your own fault and you
have nothing and no one to blame but yourself. For in order to cultivate
self-hate, one must continue doing the things you hate about yourself, despise
about yourself.
Sometimes, you wonder about how your life might be different
if this had happened instead of that, or whether or not you’re doing the right
thing. Is it better to get hurt later and enjoy now, or stay a little hurt now
and never get hurt in the future? Is it possible to truly be happy while you
lie awake scared about tomorrow and the future every night? What is happiness
anyways, besides a simple word? Are you truly capable of achieving so called happiness,
you, a selfish, stupid, ugly, (no stop please), foolish, childish, immature,
procrastinating disgusting vile creature who calls themselves human? Is it
possible? Is all the “love” the other people give you really for you, or have
they been blinded temporarily by some mistake in fate, blinded from your true
lack of worth, and someday they’ll wake up to find they never “loved” you in
the first place, not the true you? Is it worth it? Any of it at all?
Sometimes, you feel guilty. Guilty that you take but don’t
give half as much. Guilty that you couldn't do more. Guilty that you chose not
to do more. Guilty, guilty, so, so guilty over the littlest of things. Things
that those you feel guilty for and to have already waved off as petty things,
things that shouldn't even be bothered with, but nonetheless things that weigh
your mind and soul every single day. It is a funny thing how much you feel
forever indebted to some people. It is that guilt that eats you alive.
Sometimes, you get caught up in the never ending cycle of
dislike for humanity, dislike for society, dislike for other people, dislike
for rules, dislike for work, and, most of all, dislike for yourself. It’s easy
to get re-dragged into that washing machine that pours out bubbles of
disgraceful disgust and fountains of bitterness a thousand times more bitterly
than the blackest coffee in the world. To hate things and to hate you becomes
almost a way of mind and living, to the point it’s almost not a choice. For it
can be so, so difficult and tiring to always look for the brighter side, and to
stay calm and relaxed and not worry over pointless things, and to simply be
optimistic.
Sometimes, sometimes, you just need to take a breather.
Sometimes you just need to take a step backwards rather than forward, and to
look at the whole picture rather than what little bits of darkness you see
through your daily tunnel vision. Sometimes, spitting out that awkward truth of
“I’m not okay”, or “I’m lying, please don’t leave me” becomes more worth the
effort in the long run rather than sticking with the usual nonchalant shrug and
pride in one’s ability to survive alone. But surviving and truly actually
living are really two quite different things on the spectrum.
Sometimes, it’s just time to live.
