I'm leeching my parents for every penny and refuse to work, refuse to study officially and every night I feel depressed because the next day holds less meaning than the previous one.

Every piece of entertainment in the internet is repetitions of the same narrative with different actors.

Sex is repetitive as hell, not that I've had any since I was 20, nor will I ever, since I refuse to get dragged around like a dog, to be displayed to her friends and family, and to shop for endless hours just to get a bit of a good night's suck.

Every moment I breathe is nonsense, this accumulation of memories, of sensory input.

The future, just a meaningless powerplay, between individuals, and between nations, and a constant mutual jerkoff and reassurance within our tiny little comfort zones we've made to keep people who disagree with us out.

Does Hell exist? Sure, Hell is understanding. It is seeing how pointless existence is, and yet keep existing.