#There is only myself and the rapidly shrinking pool of future possibilities
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Caught in the cycle of returning again and again to my lowest point, confronting my utter disappointment with what life actually is versus what it theoretically could be, realizing that I am trapped on this earth and thus in pain out of obligation,
And realizing,
I have nothing to show for any of it. I am still, ultimately, alone.
#There is no hint that help will come from elsewhere#To save us from ourselves#In my hands is a connection point to the sum of human knowledge#As well as most of not all humans alive today#I know many names. But there is no name I can call for help.#There is no help coming from outside. There is no help coming from inside.#There is no help at all.#There is only myself and the rapidly shrinking pool of future possibilities#And the yawning void of death beyond#And as I watch the puddle dry up and become more filled with scum and mud#I wonder what's the point of going back over and over to drink when I know what the outcome will be#(misery. The outcome is misery.)#And I know how the journey ends too: in complete erasure#No one will know my name after I'm gone. No one will have memories of me to pass down.#My bones will crumble to dust blown across the surface of a barren sterilized planet#To live is to suffer and to die is to be utterly erased#There is no help or hope coming. And I keep going. And wishing I didn't have to.#I am so tired of being miserable. I am so tired of being alone.
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