not that it matters, but it's safe to say that i'm not okay. i hit a plateau in my efforts to lose weight and seem to have basically given up. except now i hate myself even more. while at the same time not caring enough to change. i read something in a blog recently that describes more or less where i'm at. basically, the writer said that (at one time in their life) they wished they didn't believe in an afterlife. why? because then dying would finally be the answer. believing in an afterlife screws everything up. because it means the pain won't stop when i die. in fact, it'll probably get worse because of guilt and crap. honestly, i just want to stop. to stop existing. to stop feeling, needing, being, wanting, breathing, hurting, EVERYTHING. i want to end. but i grew up with a religion that shoves the belief of life after death down our throats from day one. and for those who do not suffer this consuming desire to end, i'm sure it's great. but not for me. for me it is a torment.
and yet, all this doesn't matter. because i am just one out of seven billion. my problems do not matter. they are nothing compared to the problems of 99% of the worlds population. i know i'll keep living because i cannot as yet come to grips with an eternal hell after death when mortal probationary hell is shitty enough. so what does my whining matter against the suicides of countless people around the globe? what does it matter against the suffering of people who really do have reasons to suffer?
it doesn't. i don't. and i wish to god this were freeing to know this, but it makes it worse. because i am a member of the human race and humanity seeks for validation above all. validation that they as individuals, society, a race matter. that they are important. that they make an impact.
a speck of dust is all that i am. a speck of dust in a sea of fields.
i wish that i could end.