I feel very empty recently.
Every where I look, meaning in things are lost.
It feels mechanical and void. I am not depressed or anything.
I just don't have any emotion.
I see lot of people when I walk. But something in me tells me that they are fake. They pretend to be happy, but they're just clinging on to things that doesn't last.
I feel like I don't belong to the society. I was always the outcast.
Friends are fickle in their heart. All they talk about is money, cars and girls. I can't stand it.
Everyone is enslaved by this whole notion. It is almost like a disease.
If that is the perfect solution to life's fulfillment, why are there so many problems associated with it?
I'm 22. Life has lost meaning to me.
Love is elusive and shared among few. People are indifferent towards one another. Strangers are strangers, and they don't give a fuck.
Today I wanted to be depressed. Failed in that.
I am a psycholgical vacuum and that's it.
Will be 23 on the 26th, but probably won't be here.
Father, Mother, thanks for bringing me in this world. Had a peaceful moments at childhood, but that's in distant past.
The world is in devolution. I will extinguish myself before become swallowed by it.
Thank you brothers and sisters. Good luck on your journey in finding hapiness.
My time is out..
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Friends suck? Find better people to be your friend. There have to be ways, you just need to look for quality people in the right places such as hobbies and voluntary works.
Don't get mislead by that mere bad feeling, live pass it. When you look back, you will find what you intend to do now is not worth it.
My friend and I made a documentary that touches on that overwhelming feeling of emptiness..
"I realized that everything I ever loved, or was attached to is going to die... that makes stuff kind of meaningless..."
"Why am I doing what I'm doing?"
"...feeling unfulfilled and alienated.."
".. its emptiness that weaves the world."
"...feeling like I didn't belong on this earth."
"I want to do something worthwhile.."
When I think about ending the regrets, its like coming into a room with a door on the other side that I have to go to, only there is a big mountain of rock in between, and I go to reach for my pick so I can start carving and chipping away, only I have no shovel, I left it behind. I've messed up, and now I'm stuck. If we have our body, we can change and be free. I saw Puss 'n Boots today, and I still want to do something worthwhile, so that I can be a "good egg". Blade Runner the movie talks about our robot condition - why I can't feel anything.. yet we can remember how we use to feel, as kids... alive!
Thus ended the first twenty-three years of my life, with the loss of the “feeling” that had led me through all, from childhood.
Exactly one year to the day from the time my “feeling” left me, it returned again; just as if an electrical switch, long disconnected, was again turned on.
What this exactitude of period might mean I did not then know. It was as if I had been sentenced to one year in “jail,” a jail with only two windows, my eyes; and all the other gates of my mind barred shut. For though I could hear, what I heard meant little. And though I could still smell the odor of flowers in spring, the experience stirred no response. The flavor of food gave me no pleasure; my appetite was gone. Things that I touched were cold or warm, rough or smooth, but I could not feel them a part of me, to interpret their hidden meanings as I had done since childhood. My imagination and emotions, which had previously been ever active, sensitive to respond, were during this year entirely dormant.
For the first time I felt the deficiency of my education; for now what had been the source of my understanding was no longer active. I felt that I knew nothing whatever about anything at all. So I set out to learn what I could while working for a living along with thousands of others who were serving “sentences” longer and harder than mine, in the endless treadmill of the civilization of a large city.
The story of that year would be superfluous to this record. Suffice to say that in that time I was reduced to the humility of realizing that “in myself I am nothing,” and that other men in themselves were nothing; that without inspiration all men were nothing but electrochemical, biophysical mechanisms.
Then what was inspiration: What was the “current,” and from whence, that brought life to dormant nerves, vision and understanding to the mind? I could see that men did not realize. The blind followed the blind, and none of them knew.
What made men great musicians, great artists, poets, surgeons, scientists, leaders, prophets? Was it the men themselves? What and whence the energy, the enthusiasm, the ambition, the hope, and faith the vision that took the clay of the earth, the body of an animal, and raised up out of the mob a great and lonely man?
And why did men flourish for a season, rise up inspired and speak their piece to thrill a nation, only to sink back to the level of a beast again, with a glaze over their eyes, a palsied hand, a pathetic ghost of a once-great man?
Only now did I know the answer, in the only way that one can ever know the answer to anything, by a personal experience. My little light hadn’t lit up a very large area; it was the light of a boy, not a leader. I was not a great musician, artist, or anything else. Comparatively few people even knew I existed. But my light had gone out. And I could see in the lives of other men that they too had flashed a greater light than mine but it had gone out.
We were the wires and the bulb, the machine and the motor; but without the “current” we were nothing but that. It required a man plus “something else.” Without the man, the “something else” could not manifest. Without the man the “something else” would be without hands, without voice, without strings to play a melody. But conversely, without that “something else” men are but the clay of the earth, and go the way of all flesh as a herd of educated human animals. And I could see that if man did not sustain a proper relation with that “something else,” it left him as quickly as the snapping off of a switch or the burning out of a light.
I shook hands with a friend, and suddenly felt a pain in the lower right side of my abdomen. Not having seen him for some time I asked him how he was, and he told me he had ruptured himself lifting a heavy packing case.
I was introduced to a man and a woman, total strangers to me. When I looked at the head of the man I imagined for an instant that it resembled a long, high bridge. When I looked at the woman, for a moment her face seemed to me to be that of an old man holding a violin under his chin. When I laughingly told them about it, the man said, “That is strange I am working on the specifications for a new ridge over the Mississippi River. I am an engineer.”
The woman said, “Why, whatever made you say that? I never heard of such a thing! I have been thinking of just such a man. I met him at a musical in Paris, and he promised to give me lessons when I returned. I am planning to go there now.”
A man was brought to see me by a friend who said, “Joseph, this man has heard of your mental experiments and would like to talk with you about them.”
When I shook hands with him, a feeling of cold crept up my arm like a cold draft that went all through me and chilled me from head to foot. I was hard put to it to complete the handshake courteously, without betraying my revulsion to the feeling.
During the meaningless formalities of opening a conversation, I kept asking myself, “Now what does that mean? What does that feeling mean?” But my mind went blank, and produced no answer. That was the answer, and I didn’t know it at first.
The man said, “I thought perhaps you could tell me something of what I ought to do. I have become confused in my mind, and the doctors can’t help me with it. They don’t find anything wrong with me physically.”
I said, “Well, I can tell you what you are going to have to do, if you don’t let up a little, and take better care of yourself. You are going to have to take a long rest.”
“Do you think I should quit working for a while?”
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