I had a realization a couple days ago. Ever since 2014, I couldn't stop thinking about how likely I am to end up shooting myself. Problems I was having then, which I still have now, convinced me I wasn't going to make it. So I started living as if I'm going to kill myself one day.

In the end I was right, but that notion is responsible for my current shortcomings. Never tried to plan ahead, never tried doing anything significant. I could have started something like drawing or making music, then I'd be good at it by now. But instead I'm stuck in a hole I dug myself into.

Nothing has value to me now. There are a lot of things I want to do, but I can't bring myself to do. I'm bothered by an envy of an artist to a crippling degree. I could have been so much, but my life and my own thought process is what threw me down the shitter after all.

I don't have passion. This alone cripples any ability I have to achieve anything I desire. I'm not passionate, I'm just a narcissist. And I have *zero* desire to live a bitter cookie cutter life sulking and struggling to survive in a world I have no further interest in.

My birthday is in less than a month. I don't want to be 20, I'm not good at anything yet. I should've at least had *something* when I was 16. Too bad I guess. Well, I'm about to fail high school, and I'm hoping to end it before my birthday. So I guess I lived my life exactly how I predicted. I've figuratively killed myself, next is literally.