How many times do you go through life finding it to be pointless if not worthless? No, I'm not venting from abuse nor am I venting from any academic subjects (I have a few courses that I had to retake over the years, including now, at university, but I'm doing well otherwise). But, whenever I'm not overtaken from mania and/or lust, I just feel dead inside. For just about person I ever heard of or even met, I see this pattern when it comes to "life." First infancy, then early school years (where I had to be taken under constant therapy), then the later school years with all the supposed drama (I wasn't really social so I didn't experience any of said drama from anyone else and I barely even witnessed it (thank God)), then college, then work, maybe get married and have kids, etc. It infuriates me that everyone treats these things as milestones or some part of the "grand experience" when the truth is that the whole is just a processing factory! You do this and you do that! That's it! It's not even a proper factory where something of lasting value is created. Everyone is so insistent about talking about the next generation or what the future holds for them with such disgusting, cloying whimsy. Why should I care? Back when I was in therapy, I was given mental tests ceaselessly to the point that I gained a hateful look on how to solve problems. Since the world refused to stop feeding me garbage even though I never asked for existence in the first place, I decided to myself that I would work hard, play their sick little game, until I got what I needed to fight back. That isn't to say that I don't have any experience working because I actually wanted to opposed to needed to; it's just that I never found a real means of doing the former for a living. Ever since, I would work hard for the sake of keeping up the status quo. I had hoped that, as the years went by, I would find myself with something that I felt would my life's purpose. What did I get? I obtained a transformation fetish as well as a love for certain pieces of fiction that I can't apply towards real life. And of course, because of my autism, I never really had much friends that I felt I could talk to spontaneously and those few friends often end up literally distant so I have to resort to Facebook (it's not the same). I feel really lonely every now and then. I despise the thought of having kids because I don't want them to inherit my genetics or my unwanted nihilism. At times, I actually have "Plan Z" (suicide) in mind, but of course it's "Plan Z" because "suicide is wrong." I'm sorry; in real life, I try to be a nice guy and I'll turn up the charm and maybe throw in some humor if I see fit, but all this just makes me bitter.
18 Dec 2013, 8:46 pm
