I apologize for being vague and sometimes contradictory in advance, however, I hope that someone will be able to pull a kernel of realization out of this.
Perhaps I am simply disillusioned with all life, but I still feel it necessary to prolong my own. I have poured myself into my work, I earn enough to launch myself into a good education, or a career, or into drugs and alcohol. I want none of these things. I want all of it. It is a feeling that has always plagued me since I was young, the need to go out of my way to find the differences in action that make me unique while still allowing for connections with a majority of other humans. That requirement has been boiling down to nothing as of late, I have become contented with going along with the flow of things as I no longer care for my life long aspirations.
Being rich is easier than being poor, thus that is what I shall be. The logic behind that statement seemed sound when I set out to gain fortune in the world. It's lost the ring it used to posses when I first thought of it. I wanted to know the meaning of life somewhere along the line of consciousness and now I believe that I have attained it. There is no point to things. Chaos is the only force behind us, solipsism is not what I am advocating, though the undertones of it are clearly present.
I do not understand what my purpose is, is it simply to die? That is the only thing all organic life has in common, it eventually ceases to be. I believe I will kill myself soon, the price for deciding my own fate will be death. To put it bluntly, life sucks because there is no underlying cause for things. There is no God, or Gods, or galactic space aliens controlling us from afar.
Then again, there may be all of those things. This uncertainty leaves me in a state of constant flux between seeming to be able reach knowledge of everything and coming up with knowledge of nothing. What am I waiting for, what is my purpose, do I decide? These questions appear to be unanswerable despite years of constant thought.
I am no longer fettered with the belief that I can save myself by focusing on concrete objects such as family, work, friends. Things are narrowing down to a point where there is no point, my life is coalescing into what I would consider a singularity in development.
My story about how life sucks isn't just about my own, it's about your existence as well, and everyone you know and love. If I get a single person to question themselves, how much things mean to you, then this short essay of a story will have served the purpose I have given it. Perception is reality, the only purpose I have ever found was self-created. I want more than I can give myself.
Again, this was created in a stream-of-consciousness style and I wish to impart some form of wisdom onto another being through it. If you find this to be a large pile of useless text spouting about nonsense because you have priorities and are able to focus on concrete ideas and activities, then you do not need to heed the ideas found here. If you are having trouble dealing with what you'd like out of life, so to speak, then give me a chance.
I am 18 and I feel 81, I do not have much time left before I go completely mental from the stress I self-impose. I aspire to obtain both nothing and everything, because I can not decide my own purpose, I have no true guidance and I am running out of my own. Life sucks.
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