I’ve 🐝 bee-n fighting for two years now. I have this « job » that I’ve been stuck with forever now. My inability to enjoy the little things of life is just another indication of my dereliction: hating the bitter man I’m becoming, seeing myself in people I despise, being unable to think, speak, create.
There’s no future for me here. No way out from my work. No time to dedicate to what I love. I read the introduction of Camus’ « L’homme Révolté » about absurdism in other to be something else than a consuming shitty human, and I don’t agree with most of the moral dilemmas: killing yourself is not the same as killing another person. I’m making a choice for myself and maybe, one of the limits of this argument is that I’m imposing my absence on others…
But who might miss me? My family & friends? It’s true, there are the ones that made me stay this long, but nothing is changing, and I need to help myself.
ಥ_ಥ, maybe see you tomorrow ?
