All I have ever wanted was an escape route. Some way to leave. I don't give a damn if that's childish or uncourageous. When the world is pounding away at you, all you want to do is disappear.
How is it that one day I am giddy with delight and the next, I cannot help crying every other hour? Is it just me, or does it seem horribly ironic that my belief that happiness is fleeting is reinforced every other day?
I am angry. I am sad. I am frustrated. And I am tired. How exhausted must you be before you die? I think I am getting close to the limit. This is why I do not believe in God, that almighty, powerful, merciful being. Because if he did exist, I would not be living right now. Because he would have taken pity on my poor, pathetic life long ago.
Life is not good.
I am dying slowly, torturously, happily.
