Today, I saw a dead body man on the street.

It made me think:

I blame the world for every fault, but its all my own.

I'm not productive. I'm not enrolled in school. I don't do anything except work, drive around, wait, and smoke weed.

I treat my family like shit. My parents are old. They take medications and suffer from pain. Surgeries and diagnoses. They work too hard. I make them work harder. I yell and push them away. I leave scars for them to see, and they see it.

I work for the money, but I don't need it. Stress from work is unimaginable. But money is worth all the headache and sometimes the humiliation. I've been out of balance 15+ times since I've started working there.

What is worth it? What is the right thing to do?

About Me:

I think too objectively. But I take everything personally.

Its not that life became boring. I've just become uninterested.

Now, I think I'd rather die empty than live with hope.

A hope for something as intangible as happiness.