Again...

The only way to be happy is to simply mask the truth that life sucks and that our lives have no meaning. No matter how many good times or how many bad times, our lives are hollow. Maybe it's easier to convince yourself to bother sticking around if the good ones outweigh the bad, but it doesn't change the fact that we have no purpose and we are simply another organism that is made up of atoms just floating in space.

I do not know how I will ever stop caring about what other people think of me; it is not like I haven't said to myself before "Just ignore it" or "Who cares what other people think?" - for goodness sakes, one of my life ideals for years has been Dr. Seuss' "Be who you are and say what you feel because those that mind don't matter and those that matter don't mind". Off by heart, I know the philosophy. Yet knowing isn't doing? Knowledge is not power until you are successful in acting on it. Caring an obscene amount about what other people think will ruin my life. I know that, because it affects me in so many different ways already. I always thought it was one of those things that diminished with maturity, but now it just seems like an embedded part of my personality.

La crême de la crême: It will ALWAYS be such a goddamn effort to be happy, why should I keep on trying? Perhaps you don't agree with my deterministic viewpoint - kudos to you for having a glass half full attitude on the matter. But not only have I read it, but it is evidenced by life itself: the way we are is a result of nature via nurture. Things happen to us throughout life, but we have some sort of genetic predisposition that determines what these experiences mean to us and how we innately react to them. The funny thing is, I don't think I am like either of my parents. I think there is some similarity between me and my sister, but what happened in all of this? Did we just get some fucked up set of genes. Because I honestly feel like that; I got given so, so, so much - everything that everyone is so jealous of me for - yet there are so many others whom I would trade places with in an instant just because I would so much rather be inside their head. People who are okay with themselves, people who either know what their purpose is, or conversely, don't care. People who are funny, who love life. People who are happy. You rave about how interesting I am all the time, yet one of the primary reasons I fucking hate myself so much is because I am so goddamn boring. You always speak of how intelligent I am, but I struggle to find proof for this in anything. You say that I'm beautiful, yet these days I can' stand to look at myself in the mirror. I am not unique and I am not special.

It all seems so logical, and hey it is probably that twisted type of logic that I have made such a bad habit of, but can you see what I'm getting at? With any of it? The best way to be happy comes with not thinking and being distracted because life does not have a meaning… How will I ever stop caring about what other people think of me, because it is not something you can just will away… and why should I keep trying to make things better when it feels like I am innately predisposed to not be happy - like a magnet is continually pulling me back to what is "natural"?

But you see, you have me trapped again. Because as the quote says, "You have a choice. Live or die". Ultimately, there is only one choice; to live. I wish it could be over and I wish I didn't have to go through this anymore because I am just so tired of feeling like I am never making any progress, even if I am. I am sick and tired of the way that I view the world, of my so goddamn pessimistic attitude, for being so fucking self-centred and everything about me that makes life such a fucking arduous task. I hate my temperament, I hate that I can't sustain any one emotion for more than 5 minutes. I hate my stubborn thought that it will never change, yet I see a world of truth in it.