If I was another person looking at myself, I would ridicule the person I am today.

Such a weak person, still clinging onto old, outdated feelings.
Still so weak and immature.
Still so ignorant. So stubborn.

Little things affect me. Even when they no longer have anything to do with me.
Other peoples lives still cause hate, pain and despair. Even though they are no longer a part of my life. Or will they ever be in the near or remote future.
Still so sentimental over things that should not be picked out. Should not matter. Should not have anything related to the self.

Its depressing being this stupid person.
Depressing to reflect onto ones actions and thoughts.
Even more depressing to write about from a third person point of view.
I think it's also depressing watching me write about it as well.

Only God knows what is this miserable soul is to do in his miserable life.

Is there any way out of this eternal cycle of repeating delusion and recurring depression? Can there be a cure for this insignificant human being that deserves no other than the suffering that he implies onto himself?

Is this soul doomed forever?

What will the next chapter of this endless novel bring? Who knows?

And why do I even care?

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