I’m writing in a dark time. I suppose here is where this blog comes in handy for myself. It’s not a stretch to say I have no one to turn to today. In theory I do, but in practice no one wants to hear this that won’t see it. No one is here for me in this dark time, and I blame no one but the sick design of the universe. It’s funny because something so stupid spurred this on and now I’m in a pit of unadulterated despair. I feel like burying my head in the sand until I run out of air and die in a funny pose. I will continue the idea that the common sense gun laws of the uk have kept me from going six feet under. If I could buy a gun, I can guarantee a revolver round would have nestled it’s way into my brain by now. I feel as though I have no one. I feel as though I have nothing, just a pointless trudge through life without any purpose or meaning behind any of it. None of my friends are really my friends, or are they? At this point I’m thinking too much that I’m starting to question what is real anymore. This blog is the only thing I feel as though I can actually talk to anymore. I wish there was a way to just release all this emotion bottled inside of me, I can’t cry, I can’t meditate, I can’t talk to anyone. I can’t do anything. I can sit here and talk to myself while shivering profusely. My life is shit and meaningless. I’m not happy, I never was happy and I never will be. It’s hard to keep carrying on because I don’t even know what I’m fighting for anymore. There’s nothing left but material possessions. Work isn’t stressing me out, in fact it’s serving as my little escape from everything. The only thing worse than feeling nothing is feeling nothing and everything at the same time. Emotion is flowing through my body yet my face displays nothing, my body displays nothing, I’m sat sentinel yet my mind is drowning in a numbing sadness that is eating away at my psyche. Im self aware enough to realise what a bunch of overdramatic and cringy bullshit I’m writing but for gods sake I think I deserve to just sort of let my fingers type out whatever my brain thinks. I don’t even know who I am anymore. What the fuck even is my personality? I’m being pulled in so many directions that I don’t even know who I am anymore. I have to put up an elaborate wall of lie after lie to keep myself in check. I’m lying to myself about this, that and the other and it’s gotten to the point where I don’t even know myself anymore. People say that “we’re never the finished article” but I don’t even know if I’ve gotten past the first shitty draft. I have to constantly say to myself that I’m just a late bloomer and that everything is going to sort itself out but I don’t even know how much I believe that. Sure it makes me feel better but if I’m being genuine I just think I got the short end of the stick in life. I’m a terrible person and I just need to wake up to that fact and be the man that takes me out of this nightmare. The truth is that it’ll never happen, I’ll die by gods whim and that’s meant to be. I can’t kill myself as much as I’d love to. As much as I’d love to just light myself on fire or blow my brains out realistically I know I couldn’t. My mind is focused on death and I hate it. I just want things to be different, to be better. But I know that’ll never happen either. I feel like gods punching bag, like a sick joke. I know for a fact a happy ending will never come. I know for a fact nothing happy with come, I’ll just contribute to slog through this torture until mercy is brought upon me by a car accident or a fatal disease.