I don't have much to say, other than that I feel you. I don't think I've been alive since 2022. I don't know if I hate my parents though. Maybe I do, but at the same time, nobody gets to choose for themselves whether they want to start being a living, breathing person or not. They only get the choice to stop, and even so, only if they become aware that they have that choice. It's cruel in that way, I guess. Even more so now, with the way the world is, and what we are meant to do. Though, I suppose even at its earliest stages, life would be unenjoyable. We are, in some ways, never meant to be happy. Awareness: our greatest gift, and our greatest curse. Nature's system of evolution is funny like that, but we've outpaced its various facets now, and replaced them with our own insidious forms of selection. That's just how probabilities with randomizing functions work I guess, anything deemed undesirable is weeded out. Even so, I'm happy for everyone who's managed to gain a sense of satisfaction and happiness in an honest and kind life, whatever path they took. I suppose I am envious on the theoretical level, but I don't really feel it, unless it's rubbed in, I suppose.
When your mind and body won't cooperate with itself, it feels terrible, it feels like you are your own hostage in some ways, like you are both the captor, and the captive, a prisoner of your own body and mind. Anyways, sorry for the ramble. I wish you the absolute best, and I'm assuming that, much like most people here, and myself, you're sick of all the boilerplate pleasantries levied against those dissatisfied with living, so I won't subject you to that.
Keep at it if you can. And if you can't, then, I'm sorry. I understand, and, good luck, I hope you find what you're looking for, and thank you for trying, even if you think you didn't. It may be a low bar, but if you feel that way, you've tried harder than those who use suicide to, for example, escape justice for their crimes, or all those people who sit high and mighty on their ivory towers, who gain everything from the world by doing nothing for it.
They always tell you that it's always darkest before the dawn, or the only way out is through, or some other bull like that, and at first, I guess you believe it. It seems so appealing, possible, maybe? But as it drags on, and on, and on, you begin to wonder when that proverbial dawn will come. And after even longer, even if what is said to you is hypothetically somehow true, you begin to question whether or not you want to keep subjecting yourself to the proverbial darkness, just to, what? Find out if it's worth it or not? I don't know. Every day just feels, at absolute best, the same, and usually? Slightly worse. Having to peel yourself off of your bed, like one of those horribly sticky and fragile paper stickers they put on everything these days, every day, do what you have to do, and eventually get back to bed, disappointed in what you did that day, and the day before, and so on, and so forth. Maybe it is worth it. I don't know. Most people around me seem to think it is.
Either way, I wish you the best, whatever little that means from some rando online.
