Why does it matter

I don’t wanna do this anymore. And I don’t mean I wanna kill myself or anything. I don’t want to be on this planet anymore. I don’t want to be a part of the human race anymore. I don’t want to be here anymore. What’s the point? Work. Money. Friends. A house. A car. A family. A career. In the end it doesn’t mean anything. So why do we stress over it like it does? Like any of this actually matters? This thought crossed my mind not long ago and it’s had me more depressed than I’ve been in almost 10 years. Why should I try? Why should I work? Why should I do any of this if none of it is gonna matter when I’m dead? There’s no point. Every day is a fight with myself. And I’m fucking tired of fighting. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve never felt like I was meant to be in the normal adult world anyway. Nevermind actually trying to. Some of you might disagree with me and that’s okay. But I don’t see the point of working your whole fucking life if it all ends the same exact way.

6 feet under the ground. Never to return. What’s the point? Sure you can argue that you should just make the best of the time you have. That’s fine too. But you’re still gonna die. And eventually, the last person to ever remember you is gonna die. And you’ll fade into obscurity. Life is more of a cruel joke than a blessing.

What the fuck is the point???


I know this is a journal, but I’m going to reply anyway because this hit home hard. I believe- and you definitely don’t have to- that the point is to not only make yourself happy, but to make everyone around you happy too. Spreading love and kindness is the point.

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