How it Works

Life is Less

So I just realized something:

I hated my life.

And I don't mean it in a dramatic way, not like I hate my life because mom was being unfair. Or I hate my life because I was grounded.

I really do hate my life.

At one point, I thought my life was not worth living. I believed it. That was before, but now I just wish I was living another life. A life better than this.

I'm not saying my life is horrible. I have a home, I have a family, and I have friends. I'm blessed for all of that, and I know that.

But my life, it's dull. I feel empty and incomplete. It feels like something is missing.

No, I take that back. A LOT of things are missing.

My life seems irrelevant and boring. I feel like I'm already dead, but I keep on breathing. Know what I mean?

I hate my life because it has no meaning. It has no purpose. It's just....existing.

I don't want to exist, I want to feel alive. I want to feel like life is a gift, and not a damn curse.

It's not considered a life anymore, it's a fucking cage.

People like their lives the way they are. People are content with their lives. And I'm talking about the people in MY life. Even if they weren't ecstatic with their way of life, they were fine with what they have.

But I'm not happy. I'm not fine. I wish I was, but I'm not. Most would criticize what I'm saying right now. I can almost hear them lecture me.

"You have a home! There are people who are starving on the streets."

"You have your family! There are people who don't have anyone."

"You have friends who care about you! There are people that have no one to give a shit about them."

I know there are a lot of people who are suffering, but it infuriates me when someone uses that against me. That will not make me feel better about myself. It's sad, I know. But I'm talking about ME, I'm not talking about the rest of the world.

Why do I have to relate everything to world problems? I have my own problems I need to handle with.

I hate my life because it's basically a routine. I do the same things over and over again, and I'm so tired of it.

Writing was the only thing that kept me sane, but now the dullness of my life took that from me as well. My mind is blank, my heart is hollow, and my inspiration is gone.

I can't even write about my own depression. Everything's just....blank. Nothing.

I hate my life. But that doesn't mean I don't want to live. I just don't want to live in this life.

I want another life. One that is adventurous, different, and new. A life that I would be excited for when I wake up the next day.

It's like something is holding me back, or someone holding me back. I want to break free. I want to explode.

I WANT TO FEEL ALIVE!

I'm not dead! I'm not dead! I'm breathing, but why does it feel like I AM dead?!

It's ANNOYING!!

I have thoughts, and I have feelings. I have a fucking soul. Everything that I am can't be contained in such a tiny bubble. There is more to the world, and I want to see it. I want to explore it. I want to experience it.

Of course, it's not that easy.

Some day, I'm going to change my life and I will love it. I will learn to. But me being me, I will grow impatient real fast again and sulk.

Ice cream and writing keep me going, and I'm blessed for these two being part of my boring life.

Ice cream and writing won't stab me in the back.

Ice cream and writing don't lie to me.

Ice cream and writing listen.

Ice cream and writing don't steal my man. (Even if I never had one, but if I did, they won't do it.)

. . . .

. . . .

Anyways, that was dark. Like MY LIFE—

Just kidding! Hahaha....

I'll stop now.

Read ya later!