I’m at my breaking point. Life feels bland, empty—lacking any real flavor or purpose. If I were desperate enough, I wouldn’t even want the typical explanations people give. It’s like screaming for help but realizing there is no one to hear you s ream. nothing. I try to connect with the world, but it just feels meaningless.
Where am I, really? What does it mean when we say “the world”? Who set up this whole thing and left me here, standing alone? Why would Katarina destroy everything. Who am I now? How did I even get here? Why didn’t anyone ask if I wanted to be a part of this? It’s as if I was dragged into a system I never agreed to, bought and shoved into humanity without a choice. How did I end up tangled in this huge mess we call “reality”? Why am I supposed to care about any of it? Isn’t that my choice to make? And if I have to be here, why isn’t there some kind of guide? I have complaints, questions. But who would even listen?
They say life is a debate, but can I even ask my questions? If I just go along with it all, am I lying to myself? Shouldn’t I try to figure out what’s really going on? And honestly, what does guilt even mean? How do you know if you’re guilty? I’m just trying to make myself happy without hurting anyone. But then, why does it all feel so hollow?
My mind feels stuck. One minute I’m drained, barely caring; the next, I’m running from one extreme to the other, trying to vent my frustrations, looking for someone to take it out on. It’s like I’m constantly fighting myself. When did I start feeling guilty? Or am I even guilty? And if I’m not, why do I carry this weight? Why does language trap us with words that don’t mean what they should?