What can I say that I haven’t already talked about a million times already

It feels like every time I start one of these mindless rants I just end up complaining about the same things all over again, I do the same when I journal as well. 

It’s always something along the lines of me constantly feeling miserable all the time, feeling envious towards others for whatever reason and being constantly lonely despite having people around me who care and love me. Something about never feeling fulfilled. And in each entry I seem to always clarify how I’m grateful with everything I have but sometimes I wonder if I really am being truthful when I say that. Sometimes it’s hard to tell whether or not what I say is the truth or a lie which is a funny thing to say because I’m me so obviously I should know, right?

Nothing makes sense anymore, not the world or time or myself or anything really. Why is life so complicated? Or am I making it harder than it actually is? Is living supposed to be easy? Are we supposed to be this self aware with everything? Sometimes I yearn for the days where I was more oblivious to the tragedies of the world but to ignore is to be selfish and have no sense of humanity in oneself. I want to fix the world somehow, make an impact but how could I even start when I’m one out of the millions who contribute to all of the problems in the world. The things I stand for seem to go against my own actions and thoughts. I’m a hypocrite, a person contradictory to their own beliefs. 

I don’t know who I am anymore and will I ever? Does anyone actually know who they are? Does anyone actually have it all figured out as they say or is it just a lie passed on from one person to the other? Would anyone even know? Or care? Does any of it matter at all? Everything leads up to the same ending anyway, death. And all we could do is do enough good before that time comes. Death is terrifying, it’s so fragile. I’m afraid of dying. I’m afraid of having those I love being taken away from me in a blink of an eye. Death is so fragile. 

I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of people and conversations and the outside and getting a job and growing up and being an adult. I’m afraid of messing up. I’m living so comfortably now in the warmth of my blanket in bed but what if I lose it all? Start living in the streets looking for some purpose. I doubt it but anything could happen. The chances are unlikely but never zero.

My eyes are getting tired now, I should sleep. I like sleep. I like dreaming especially when it’s about things I wish could happen but once I wake up it’s all over again and I have to face this world. This world is okay. I’m okay. Things will be okay. You’ll be okay. I hope you’re okay.

-Statiscit 24/8/2024 [01:12am]