Why do I live?

Why am I alive?

It’s not like I don’t want to live, but sometimes I don’t see the sense in keeping my eyes open.

There are some moments where I think that life really is something to keep daydreaming about, but those moments vanish as fast as my daydreams.
Sometimes I see living as a duty.
You were born to live and decease eventually.

But I didn’t choose to live, or did I?

Sometimes I feel alone in a room full of people, like I’m watching them through a screen, thinking about how fragile humans are.

I constantly need something to keep my mind off of thinking. Thinking too much for my own good.

I don’t really see a future for myself, not even a simple sketch of it.

Will everything get better? Maybe even worse.

Is my work really paying off? Am I doing enough to have a stable life someday?
And what if that work won’t ever do anything? Did I waste my precious life then?

Sometimes, I go numb.
I fall into this dark abyss full of nothing. No sadness, happiness, nervousness, anxiety, hope, just nothing.

Only because I thought too much again.

Talking about feelings is a huge struggle for me, it’s a sign of weakness in my mind, although it’s not.

Because, eventually, those feelings will go away, whether I talk about them or not.
They go and stay, some more, some less.

In theory, people need to be there for each other, help each other, love each other.
But in practice? Who is really there for you if you think about it?

My head is full of chaos.
Just as much as my thoughts.
How could anyone possibly understand me, if I don’t even understand myself.