memnoch666

I believe in nothing. I hope for nothing. All I have is broken. My books are moldy. My antiques are missing pieces. My stories are in shreds. I'm a man with nothing left to live for. I'm bereft of all of those things that help the rest of you continue. Even music, the one thing that really made me feel alive, has failed me. I'm dead inside. I don't know why I still breathe. Why does the blood still pump through my veins? What makes my heart continue to beat when all I truly want is to lie down in my grave? I've nothing left to offer to this world, yet, I still pretend. I have become so adept at playing that nothing is wrong, that I've fooled my own body. My body continues to go through the motions of life even when my mind is screaming for nothingness. For the void. I want so badly to dissipate into the atmosphere. To break up into all the individual molecules that my body comprises. I don't want an after life. I want to just end. Why would I want to continue being me? I've been nothing. I'll die as a nothing. Because I'm too fucking tired to try anymore. I have nothing left to offer the world except for a beautiful death. Beautiful because maybe then my mind will stop plaguing me with the horrors that I've lived with for so long. If heaven or hell comes after this, no matter which it is, I'll be in hell. Because, continuing this miserable existence will be torture to me.