Why the fuck would I do a thing like choose life?
My parents were warned, as was I, that I’d have trouble in the ‘big’ world when I was older if we didn’t sort things out. Notice they came up with no solutions themselves, just the suggestion that something about my character must change or else I was going to struggle in the big wide world more so than your average human being.
Their warnings weren’t unfounded, the signs were there. No doubt about it, I was going to have adjustment issues much bigger than the standard ones.
Now I’m an adult, and I’m fucking living it, I’m living their warnings, and I’m tired of everything. There was nothing anyone could do to stop it, this wasn’t a preventable disease.
Because the disease is who, I am.
People want more from me than I’m willing to offer the world, they want me to want what everyone else says they want; to make my life better, advance some cause, climb some sort of ladder for career or social purposes. But I hardly, if at all, want any of those things. I have no aspirations to leave the building but for food.
I don’t want to choose life.
I don’t even want to be a fucking human.
Our lives suck, and I wish more people would admit it.