A life of nothingness.
I always chased meaning, purpose, and joy. Initially, the purpose was to escape the house, to save myself. Once I managed to find a kinder space, I happened upon joy too. But there was no meaning in the work. Just pushing tasks from one screen to another. Took a leap for a higher purpose and meaning, fell flat on my face. Now, I have nothing. I keep sinking deeper into an abyss of numbness. I question everything I do. What is the point of anything? I survived, but I never learned how to live. Now, I see no point in living, yet I keep living. Am I living? I don't think this is living; this is just existing for the sake of it.
If all you do is wake up, work, doomscroll, eat, sleep--- is that living?
If all you remember is suffering for each past year and no hope of it being better---is that living?
If you run from everyone you know to point of being absolutely lonely--- is that living?
If there is not a single soul on this planet you willingly want to call-- is that living?
If you wish it all ended tomorrow---is that living?
What to make of a life lived in fear, pain, and just misery? I got everything I wanted, yet nothing I needed.
