un-being.

How the hell do you tell someone that you have no desire to live?

How to say that without having them feel shit in return?

Listen here, whoever you are.

Sympathy.

i do not need pity.

is there anyone who would understand?

here, i am telling you.

i do not want to live.

i have no desire to live.

i do not want to live for anything at all.

“live for anything that is beautiful,”

how can i?

the world will always be morbidly beautiful,

it does not need me here.

“there will always someone who cares, loves you,”

so? what of them?

losing me will not effect the flow of life they are going.

i am not among the lovers, i am not among those who matter.

but that is not the problem.

the thing is, i do not care.

i have no care of them.

i have no care for them.

am i selfish?

i don’t think i am,

why should i live for others when i cannot even live for myself?

i do not find meaning in that, nor do i try.

do not feel sad for me, i only need you to listen or in this case, to perhaps see.

will you try to understand me?

i do not want to live for others.

aren’t they selfish?

for wanting me to stay, when i do not even want to?

they do not need me to stay,

and i do not have any reason to stay.

although, this big talk, is all talk.

because i am a fucking coward.

i am a coward.

in a sense that i cannot die yet,

even it is my only desire.

the desperation of an end,

is also a desperation for no beginnings.

“isn’t it sad? to not exist?”

how would i know, by then, if i do not exist?

if i never exist?

i do not have any need for emotions,

to experience any living beings would have.

why would it be a sad thing?

just because i cannot express pleasure, and the in between,

i do not find it sad.

it is now taxing, living is.

it is tiring.

to live and to be alive,

for the sake i am merely breathing.

for me, that is the most fucked up thing,

to have to live, to have to breathe,

because your body and apparently,

god

wills you to do it.

i still have hatred during the days not in my remembrance,

and being reminded that my soul wanted have a taste of life.

 

Life is heavily unedited and that applies upon my horrendous writings.
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