February 15, 2011 – cw: suicide/ed

I hate being alive. I hate it. I don’t understand how people do it. It doesn’t seem right, being alive. Why was my species cursed with emotions or whatever the fuck I have. Why can’t I live in the forest or the sea?

I’m thinking about purging after I eat. I need to lose weight.

I don’t get why so many people pretend that they have any idea what they exist for. There is no way of knowing anything. Absolutely none. I don’t understand how people can live their whole life without questioning some logistically absurd idea that only exists because their parents tell them it’s true. Grown adults, still letting their parents thoughts fester and grow inside of them.

So really, is there any escaping? Are any of my thoughts my own? Are any of my ideas or actions fresh, or am I stuck in a rut that someone else has made for me? I don’t see how it could be true but what do I know.

Another thing, [entry ends]

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