I think that I am going insane.
I no longer feel human. I feel empty and jaded. Sometimes when I forget about him, or about my life in general, and I find the peace within myself to do something I used to love, I am at ease. But I am crazy.
Life has become so exhausting. I fear any relationships I form with people at this point are a matter of convenience. I fucking hate people.
Was I ever thoughtful and compassionate and trusting? Was it all just a dream? I feel like I am not even sentient anymore. Like I am just a mental mishap drifting between death and dormancy.
Even at my worst, in my old life but a memory, I had pride in some things. I am confident in my writing, my soul, my capacity to do good by other people; In my old life.
Why do I have a job where I spend all day being scrutinized and socialized and standardized by ass-hat socialites? Why do I have friends who I in earnest have nothing in common with? Why do I even have friends? Why do I employ effort in humanity at all when I don’t consider myself to walk amongst it?
I no longer conform to life. I am no longer breathing. I am drifting, and agonizing, and dying. One day I will be dead. It will be enough.