I wrote this a few months ago…

It’s not even anxiety anymore. It’s just a clear yet somehow jaded outlook, knowing how real everything almost makes it surreal. It always feels like I’m always waiting, I’m not sure what, but always seems to be for my ‘real life’ to begin. I have no presence in the world, I am nothing, I guess thats why I find it so hard to justify my being. I can put anything in my head but this is the mindfuck that forever lingers. I assume this is why so many people attempt and succeed in suicide. Not for the fact they are depressed, but for the realisation this is reality, I can’t say it more blatant than that. It’s like I’m forever waiting for some manifestation of… I don’t even know, not even an epiphany, just something that shows depth in being alive. I don’t want to have to think that I’m alive now and I won’t be young again. Maybe that’s why I want kids, how selfish, to justify why I am alive. Perhaps that’s even the meaning and circle of life. Forever waiting. Display something of substance for me please, I’m not upset, or being pessimistic, it’s just that I understand and that’s the cruelty of it, I finally came to understand ignorance is bliss, I’m sure apes (relevant to most humans) don’t think of this shit.