September 10th, 2018
I’ve been reading about a lot of people dying lately. Of cancer, murder, suicide … whatever.
But still, I live doing nothing important in this life. Often wanting to die.
Why the fuck must I live when better people than me die? What the fuck is my purpose.
August 24th, 2018
It’s here again.
That feeling of absolute dread. I can’t concentrate on my work. A feeling of all is lost and misery. That nothing I do matters.
But I’m on it this time. I recognize it and I’m doing something different.
I’m pushing through.
I’m going to do everything differently. Regardless of what my mind is telling me, I am going to do everything directly opposite. I’m sick of being a slave to this monthly suicidal inclination.
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