Another day of emptiness consumes me. I understand that one day I will look upon these days of wasted emptiness and weep at how I took my youth for granted. "Oh, pitiful child!" I shall cry. Yet nothing can be done. My mind's apathy is a beast yet slain, a beast I fear can never be.
I often check on the Neocities site run by Vashti, as I relate to much of what she writes. In some ways I fear that I am a mere imitation of her, but I hope that is not true. I am on an endless hunt for people I relate to. I need to feel actualised in that way, yet I end up with few answers from them. For some of those I followed, the answer was to kill oneself.
That keeps me up at night. I sometimes feel the draw, that perhaps in the next life I shall be a true human-that this life is a false one, and is not worth living.