Route End

So we’re here to fulfil something, ourselves you could say. At this point, well past saturation, I can’t help but shake that I need to do something with all that I’ve consumed.

To be honest, computers and the internet make me sick. It’s only that there are other living individuals here which makes it so tantalizing. It would be so easy to sell yourself into this ungodly pit to make a ‘killing’, but forget that. Forget all of that.

At this point, again, why should one do meaningless work? I’ve begun to realize that through my own concession, by my own hands, hell has been built. Why would I continue to sleep under it? Pride?

Something has changed, somethings not right here. Have you noticed? It’s as if a thick fog has rolled in, at some point within the past few years, and silence has filled the air. The people I see, mainly family, they’re just drifting, isolated. Looking at the photos of us when we were young, you could see some life in our eyes, now,

It’s funny how one needs to speak themselves into existence, or Life, rather. And here I am, living as words on a screen.

How badly do you want to punch your monitor? Smash your computer? Forget it.