ive been fantasizing about how relieving it would be to no longer be alive. i’m not the kinda person who could go through with killing themselves, but if anything were to happen to me i’m certainly not opposed to letting the ocean take me. 

i just feel like i’m continuing to be swallowed up by the burdens of being alive. working to support myself. finding love to fulfill myself. feeling like my existence means something. as more &amp; more responsibilities pile on and as i grow more and more lonely and dejected, i find myself wondering, “what’s the point?” 

i was pretty addicted to drugs after high school. i was out on my own for a while and eventually was just down to smoking weed pretty consistently for a while. now, i’m in school for music and i’ve got a control on the smoking. i thought i loved music, and maybe i still do, but i’ve been too depressed lately to want to do anything. all i want to do is lay in bed all day and waste away but i simply can’t. 

it’d be nice to have someone around. i did, actually, and it was nice. without anybody, it just doesn’t seem worth it.