But...
My life has no meaning. I have no reason to live, except for myself (meh) and for my cat (not as meh). I don't have a reason for living and at the same reason I have no reason for dying (despite what my depression and suicidal ideations/thoughts might try to convince me of).
I don't believe I'll ever get to see my mom again, in any capacity (like Heaven/Hell/Afterlife). I still hurt immensely by this fact though. Death is the end. I am hoping that there is NO such thing as reincarnation because I've lived my life, I don't want to live another in any sort of form.
I don't do anything but at the same time its like, I don't want to "branch out" or "expand my horizons" because it takes a lot of emotional/mental/and possibly physical activity to do anything different and I just don't feel up to it. And I am honestly not good at anything anymore, so I'd rather fail at things I already know I am bad at than feel worse for failing at something new. Call me a quitter, giver-upper, whatever. I don't care.
When my mom was alive, I felt like my purpose to life/to live was to take care of my mom and help her stay alive and such things. Maybe I was ignorant at the fact she was struggling and once I saw her in the hospital bed, hooked up to the machines, I knew my help wasn't working and nothing I could do would work to help her stay alive. Maybe it's better she wasn't alive to deal with COVID or other very debilitating viruses going around now that might have/probably would have affected her.
The point of this post is this:
I have no life
I have no purpose for life or death.
I am pathetic
I am nothing
And in all honesty, I just feel like a waste of space...
