Life is exhausting. 

Life isn’t really my thing. I eat healthy. I excersice. I work to reach my goals and try to learn as much as possible every single day. America fucking sucks man. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to pay bills. Fuck, I don’t want to get out of bed. I damn sure don’t want to be normal. Fuck working 9-5. I don’t even really like working for myself. I don’t understand happiness. “It comes from within.” Yeah, I fucking get that. But we weren’t put here to be happy. And how could you be happy? Like do you see what’s going on in the world? Everyone is naive and I’m fucking crazy. Whatever. Monotony is torture. Welcome to hell. I’d rather be dead. That’s the blunt truth. Fucking kill me. I’m not going to kill my self. That’s too much preparation. But by all means, fucking run me over. Shoot me. Stab me. I don’t care. I whole-heartedly mean that. Every day when I cross the road I think “I hope this car doesn’t stop.” Being alive is exhausting. Bring me peace. 


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