why do we hate those who want to help us?
everything i do these days is just an effort to find an excuse. the drinking. the driving. the drugs. the sex. the fights. the classes. the jobs. i want a legitimate reason to end it, because general dissatisfaction doesn't derive enough courage to drive the blade deep.
i miss having a reason to be a good person. having friends to fight for me. before, i wanted people to love me more so i did more. but now i know that love is fleeting and superficial, so i can't find a reason to be anything but gone.
i'd wish my death would bring new meaning like those that changed me, but i know that no one would find it. i wish i could reach them. show them. but so many people are against my views, i guess that i must be wrong. there is no place, no peace, in this society for people like me. it's not that i think i'm special or that i've got some gift. in fact, i think i must just be handicapped. ill-suited for adaptation to a bleak and dismal fellowship of men.
what is the world coming to? or has this always been?