I think, maybe now, that you are my four leaved clover
I started journaling again, and it’s kind of nice. Nostalgia at its finest. I think I’ve put a lot into perspective after Paul died. I worried about tests and TV shows and stupid things, when he taught me through his death that life is petty and can just stop for no apparent reason at all. He didn’t deserve that. It’s rainy days like today when I wonder why I waste my time doing things, and I ask myself all the ‘why’ questions: why am I here, why do I feel like God abandoned me, why do certain things happen to me, why am I always dissatisfied with myself, and really, why am I so damn unhappy all the time? Life is supposed to be this big gift we are given, but none of us asked for it because we were never given the chance. None of us knows what it’s like to not be alive, so of course it’s scary. I don’t get it and I never will, and that drives me crazy because I am so logical. I guess I’m rambling now but I just find it a waste of time that I am here, doing basically nothing productive for the general population and floating along until my inevitable death. I don’t get it. I don’t understand how something so precious is supposed to be worth it. I look at the past 20 years of my life, and I feel like I’ve done nothing; I feel like I’ve just meandered on by, like a walking zombie or a ghost or something, because I haven’t felt like I’ve truly ‘lived’. But how exactly am I supposed to feel like I’ve ‘lived’ when I haven’t known anything other than living? These thoughts in my head are maddening and I am sick of questioning my existence, God, organized religion, evil people, and so much more. I don’t understand anything about people I think, and that’s where I struggle. I get along better with animals because they are easier for me to understand than humans. I don’t understand greed, hatred, malice, cruelty, cheating, lying, all of those ugly things that animals just don’t do because they don’t know about these evils. People are cruel creatures that I simply don’t understand. Yet this world will go on like always: girls will worry about their spray tans and chipped nails, boys will worry about the next girl they’re going to fuck or how far they got in their video games, and I’ll worry about why the world exists and what my purpose on this planet is. People will be born, people will die, and we’ll call it a cycle and accept that pain is a part of life and everything ends. I still just don’t understand why.