Whatever

Sometimes I look at my life and I cry. Something overwhelms me and I feel...I dunno. I just don't feel happy. I guess that's not a good thing.

I look at my life and wonder why I'm here, wherever here is. I mean, I'm not doing anything, I am? Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I didn't exist. Would they be better? God knows they couldn't be worse. Would it even matter? Does it?

I don't know anymore.

People just seem so happy, and I wonder if there's something wrong with me, because I don't think I've ever been happy like they are. I don't stay up for long. It's like a rollercoaster: the drop always feels the longest.

I guess I'm whining. What do I have to complain about, really? People, myself included, are always saying things like, "Why are you complaining? Think of the hungry orphans and refugees and cancer patients."

But just because my life isn't filled with violence and death doesn't make it any less sad, does it? It's just...a different kind of sad. One less tangible and much less easy to pinpoint the source of.

Whatever. It doesn't matter. I just wanted to put this down somewhere.

I'm sad. I'm always sad. Or...I'm sadder than you think I am.

Whatever. It doesn't matter anyway.