I should be studying for my crop science lab exam but instead I’m writing these useless words in my mothers’s laptop. But why? Why me? Why anything? I often ask myself these questions far too often than I’d like to admit.

Why? Why am I doing this instead of studying for something that I should be doing for the sake of my education? Scratch that, I meant my future. I don’t think I’ve been walking on the right road these days. I just feel like I’m floating. Just there for the sake of existing. Why anything? Why me?

As long as I breathe, I’m still living right? It’s so corny and cheesy to be able to write these things here but I am serious. I don’t care anymore if this sounds overly cliché and shit like that. This is how I feel and I don’t think its right. Yes, it’s okay to feel these emotions and be at one with them to understand why I feel the way I feel but I have nothing here. No answers, just questions. I know I sound like I’m escaping my way through reality by writing but that’s not the point. The point is that I don’t feel like I’m existing anymore. Ethereally, realistically and surreally.

I don’t understand why I am like this. I should be having the time of my life, right Sylvia Plath? So why is this not the case for both of us? I don’t want to admit that I’ve gone off to the deep end. I don’t want to. Oh, but I am. I am in so deep that I don’t even know if I’m existing or not anymore.

Nothing matters. It’s all material anyway. All emotions. I want to severe myself from everything but at the same time it’s the only way to destroy myself and I don’t want to do that. I want to live, I want to laugh, I want to love and do all the things that happy people do.

But how come whenever I see happy people, all I can think of is how foolish. Happiness is not permanent. It never was but we never really understood it that way didn’t we? We’ve always thought it was a place where we can be blissfully happy for ever after once we reach that place but that’s not true. Happiness is moments of pure elatedness. Pure simplicity and cheap thrills. No matter what other people say, you get to decide what makes you happy and decide if you want to be happy. And that’s how beautiful and tragic life is. You can either choose to be happy or not and that scares the living hell out of me because I feel like this. This void, this emptiness that I just want to purge out and fill it with light, with happiness. But happiness is not a place. You can’t make homes out of happiness. You have to find it within yourself. For that moment, for that simplicity, for the tragic mess that all looms behind us.

So if you ask me why anything, why me all I can say is that nothing. That’s what we are and that’s what we will ever be. We are nothing compared to the universe around us. We limit ourselves through religion, through thoughts, through so-called ‘knowledge’, words with meanings that don’t really mean a thing. Yes, we are nothing but part of a void that we try so hard to fill but end up empty anyways.

Are you happy? 

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