Last night was probably the first time I truly thought, “I don’t want to live anymore.” I definitely don’t have the willpower to do something to myself, but I did think of what resources I have in my place. I played “Bejeweled” over and over again in bed trying to get my mind to think of anything else besides.

I don’t know how to share what I am feeling without feeling the overwhelming sense of burdening someone else with something they don’t need. There is such terrible things that I think of myself that I can’t bear to hear someone say “Oh, that’s not true” without me thinking “Oh, if you only knew.”

I can’t seem to find the room to grow up. Make a decision and just do it. That’s where I am now. But there’s no decision to make for a life that’s not worth living. Solomon was right — everything is meaningless and vanity under the sun. I know the conclusion of that book, but I can’t find my way there.

I will look outside today, and ask the most notorious question of life: Why am I here?

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