I hate my life. I hate my body, my face, my memories, my background, my education, my work: it's all despicable; I can't recognize my will on any of that. But my current situation isn't any better: I can't feel anything as mine, nor my voice now speaking. It's all so far away, everything in here; I'm totally detached from whatever I'm allegedly been. Right now I'm just watching an anime series, an old one, a -supposedly- good one, to forget about my surroundings for a while; but, most importantly, to try to remember why the hell did I got involved with this thing at all...
What was that in here that I thought to be of so much value, to give up everything for it? What difference does it have with any other stupid longing/obsession I've had for some other stupid thing before (and wich I, as well, have devoted my life to)? Why, despite all my efforts, it is always me who ends up being the stupid one, the one who hadn't got a clue, the one in the fucking wrong?...
What made me possibly believe, once again, that I myself could become part of some -so called- beauty I had found?
I so wanted to kill myself, a while ago. Not out of sadness, not out of misery, but out of pure rage. But I don't; I just keep on going, over my own footprints, pointlessly. I'm just the n-th fucking slave of a world and life that I'll never fucking understand.
Post edited on 22nd Apr 2012, 3:45am