Life is indescribably difficult and exhausting at times. I fail to accept the fact that I will be working hard for eight years simply for monetary interest. But that's life. We sell ourselves to live on weekends.

If survival took nothing, I would spend my life bumming around, taking pictures of everything I feel. Mmmm, if only. If only my soul would escape from its subcutaneous prison and finally be free.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I randomly cry all the time. I don't know what to do with a lot of things, and I find myself in a miserable situation with no apparent end. I can honestly say that I hate what life has to offer. I'm usually happy with what I have, but I don't know what to do anymore. I've done a good job of being cheery around people, but it's these random eruptions of hatred and disgust with myself that are slowly driving me crazy. If only I held a script in my hands. That's exactly what I need. I'm too pathetic to find my way throughout my own life; I need someone to guide me.

I feel so frustrated with a lot of things. I’m so insignificant in this world and I’m having such a hard time dealing with my life and problems. I used to imagine that all people had all of these random preoccupations and randomly broke down and had emotional crashes. I’m sure everyone has an occasional outburst of shit, but I’m starting to feel like I’m just weird. Maybe there’s something wrong with me? The breakdowns aren’t even weekly anymore; it’s an everyday occurrence that’s gradually driving me out of my mind. I feel like I’m slowly losing grip of my sanity and life. I would’ve never pictured myself stressed out about the most normal thing: living. I hate it. I have so much to do and I feel like nothing is actually worth much in the end.

Ahh, maybe this is what psychotic freaks contemplate.

Deterioration is a dreadful thing.