the life of a "human being"

Ch. one

I dont know what "being a human" means anymore. My life is a shame, I don't see the point of living, nor being alive anymore. It all started, when I was younger. I was about eight years old.I have never been a honest child towards my parents. And I am still not. at first, I lied about smaller things. Small things like my grades, or my drawings. Now I lie about my whole being. I don't feel like telling them what's going on inside me. Thats none of their business anymore.So about lies.. they led us to an enormous family argument. The lies, that weren't mine. They were my grandmothers. She spat dirt on my family, and me. That made me trust human beings less. This dreadful feeling of being betrayed by a loved one still haunts me, suffocates me, keeps me distant from humans. The misfortunes thus followed me made my insides crumble up in misery. I am blessed with every curse that a living creature could experience. My superficiality in my studies, and my looks made it even worse. Mother always expected a perfect kid, who could satisfy her needs in life, or in things she couldn't reach when she was younger. That made my vigilance stronger, and my desperate precocity-that didnt help my mental health at all- made my detachment ominously evident. I was determined, that this disgust towards human beings will stay by my side till I get harrowingly buried six-feet-deep. My farcial complacent mind that told me that i could survive on my own was my death. I am not capable of surviving, not alone, nor with people around me. That squalor that I am trying to wash away washes all the ardor out of my soul. As I am still attempting to find a will to live, the trivialities of living appear in front of my eyes, showing, that life doesnt mean too much. So I am asking you. And before I ask you this question, I need you to slow down, look around you. Did you do it? Okay. Then I shall ask you the question, that has been following me during my whole life. What is the point of that miserable struggle that human beings call "living"? You cant tell, right? Not even one soul understands the point of living, so i am asking you.. Why dont we all just die? Life is meaningless. I dont believe in such ting as destiny, nor in any god, that could write our life and story. These all just dumb shits, that humans created to help their nauseatingly farcial lives stay on track. And I know, that my woes are a littlebit overreacted, but I believe that humans shouldnt live. Because if you cant live for anything else, but for the desperate pursuing of your own insubstantial god, you won't last for a long time. Sometimes my own negativity stupefies even myself. Because I was raised to be a vulgar person, not a celebrity, nor a homeless. To maybe be a doctor, or a teacher. Not a big person. And I am not planning on carrying on for a long time. Just some more years. I must finish school, or maybe I won't. one day, I will run away, I promise. Because I am tired of the people around me. Them, who has been surrounding me since the day I was born. The ones, who knew me for years, the ones who got to know me yesterday. I am tired of every human interaction, that my parents force me to do. I am tired of being a clown, who is nothing but an effigy of an inscruable mechanism.

That's all for chapter one. Thank you for reading, I hope that you liked that one! :D