I could go out and scream it all to the walls because they might have ears for me, but I live in a busy city and I’d rather not be found in society thinking out loud its worst fears. I could also text myself on WhatsApp the way I used to, but for some reason, I expect replies – maybe it’s intentional, maybe the chat bubbles and blue ticks do make people want to carry conversations further until they are hooked to other human beings who lead lives just as pointless as the conversations that take place on these messengers. I wouldn’t say I prefer face to face talk either; it was only yesterday when my father told me that being a loner is the only way to get around the world. He then carried on to telling mum he’ll give her a divorce someday for the 400th time in the past two years (he never will). The point is, it is nice to have a blog that nobody reads – it’s a lovely place to vent.

I have a desire, and it is to want to live for something. Honestly? Currently, I exist because I do not want the people closest to me to blame themselves for my death when they have worked so hard to keep me happy. Do not misinterpret this, I only exist so I could give it all back to them. But you see, that is where the problem lies – I can only provide them with what they deserve once I’m successful and I don’t care for success. I don’t care for existence in general. People don’t understand it. They think I make no sense, but that is the point – to me, I make absolute sense, and I have to spend the rest of my life with myself, so I stop talking. But that is when they start getting irritated and it puts me in a weird position so I avoid social gatherings with people who know me as much as possible.

It’s adorable how they think extroverts have it good. Sure, we can socialize, but I can only do that with those who have no idea who I am so I wouldn’t have valid reasons to expect reciprocation. They could know me for a day or two and then they will never remember me, just the way I like it. How can people fear oblivion? It’s the most beautiful thing in the universe. If I could, I would fall into oblivion this very second, or maybe after a week so people know this is not a phase. Every year, on my birthday, I feel like I do not deserve all the love that I get, and then a month later I realize I do not want any of that love because it will obviously go away at some point. It is weird how I feel lonely when I’m with the guy I call my brother, or when I’m with school friends because I’m the kind of person who probably doesn’t appear as lonely to anyone. I’m probably messing up my grammar but who cares? Nobody is going to read this and thus, here, I can be my illiterate, negative, mediocre, self-destructive self without inviting any judgment.

What if I really run out on patience sometime in future and decide to end my life? I’ve been dragging myself for the most part of the past two years and might make 6 more, but I am pretty sure that will be it. Will I not be wasting more resources and taking up unnecessary space in an already overcrowded world? Will my parents not get more disappointed in me then after having put in so much only for me to kill myself at 23? Will it not be better if I die right now? It will save everyone the time, effort and money. Also, I wish I at least had the reason to live for vanity’s sake, but I have seen what my future self will look like visualized on someone else and it is the most disgusting thing one could look at.

I wish I had the guts to achieve the one thing I have been wanting so bad, but the sweet thing about death being your dream is that you will surely get there, sooner or later.



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