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Literature Collaboration (Working title)
This is going to be the largest and most multivarious collection of literature on Gaia, and only you can help. Come on, send in your work!
There is no One who should read this
I'm posting here because I believe everything I have ever done on Gaia is dead. Hopefully there are no friends who get a notification about some update I posted; this isn't an update. I don't know what this is. Maybe it's an attempt to cope with the most depressing moment in my life I've ever had. Maybe I'm just high. Regardless, I've never been able to read my own handwriting, so I've always done s**t like this on the computer. I like to read what I've written and pretend someone else wrote it. That makes it look good.

So if you've read this far and you aren't me, don't. This is not entertaining, this is not art. This is not a cry for help, this is not a grab for attention. I don't have a computer and I don't want to save this where someone whom I live with can see it.

I don't change out of my work clothes anymore. I don't shower. I hardly eat aside from the comp meal I get at work; along with snacks and moments where hunger overtakes my wallet. I spend more money on weed and cigarettes than I do on rent. Sometimes I sleep when I'm hungry because I don't feel like going out to get something to eat. League of Legends is about as social as I get, aside from occasionally looking through my Facebook Feed on my phone. I normally just pick arguments with people to get some kind of reaction. I get sad if my blatantly opposing view goes unnoticed. Lately I've been arguing with black people on police brutality. I don't actually care about police brutality or black people, I just think it'll be challenging to argue against someone who is so justified in their beliefs. To say things so wrong in a way that people will agree with me.

I'm part of the poison killing humanity. A depressed apathet listening to his Pandora and skipping songs he used to love.

My band is dead. My music career never had a chance, not with the way we went about it. We were stupid, under the belief that the music industry had gone unchanged since 1998. That three guys with wit, charm, and talent could plug in a couple guitars and buy a drumset and they'd be stars. At a rough estimate, we've spent 7 years and $60,000 not chasing a dream, but racing with failure. It hurts me to think that if we had changed one aspect of our mentality, we'd have made it two years ago. Thousands of people would love us, and we'd be national. We might even have radio play. More than anything, we'd sustain ourselves on our music. We'd tour a few states and make a profit. International interest would be a few years off.. or maybe a few months if something suddenly changed in popular culture. Hell.. we may have very well defined popular culture in music.

But we didn't. We failed. We are no one. All we have to show for it are the best memories of our lives. The stories of sold out shows and bust dives. The story of that one moment we almost had it, even though we probably didn't. And who do we blame? Ourselves. Each of us probably blames himself more than the others. Oh, we blame the culture, too. The filesharing, the popular tastes, the way radio died, the way alt rock turned into Bastille, the way "Lady Gaga makes sonically perfect music". The simple fact is that no one is to blame. The world will do as it pleases and we thought we could change that. Three kids against the world, so flammable and so small. The thing we thought we were born for.

We were born to reproduce and die. We were not born to set fire to a smoldering ruin. The truth is, we were just born. Sperm and eggs collided at three different times in 1998 and we happened to come out of it.

There really is not point to living. Not from a logical stand point. I used to think that the insects and animals that died after giving birth were so sad.. but they got it right. Transfer DNA and then die. Sustain the natural order. No emotion; no highs and lows. Just eat, ********, and die. It's humanity that has it wrong. We live such a long and difficult life, and we say living is the greatest gift. That every moment of happiness is worth every moment of sadness.

But we are happiest when we are oblivious. When we don't think of the inevitability of death. We're all going to die, that is utterly unavoidable. One can find ancient humans if they look around the internet long enough, hell you can see pictures of a 400 year old man. But he is an old, weak, and frail thing. Covered in his own matted hair or waited on hand and foot just so he can remain alive. Why live that long? Why continue to wake up every day? There is no point.

But we don't just die. Because people who are stupid would be sad. People who love you or expect you to enjoy life. I've stopped my friend from killing himself at least three times, and once physically prevented his imminent death. I should have let him do it. I'm a stupid a*****e for stopping him. He'd have gotten out. Subject to whatever cruelty or serenity or nothingness that awaits. Whatever it is, it doesn't matter if it's better or worse than life. At least it's ******** different. Unknown.

He once told me that one of the things that helps him get through each day was that I was so convinced that there was a reason to be alive. That he was so bonded to me as a friend that it was unfair to not give my point of view a shot. He would indeed eventually die anyway, so he would continue to give life a shot if I sincerely thought there was a point. Paraphrased, but that is what I took from it.

I wonder if he'd kill himself if he ever read this. Part of me wants to tell him, bound by the same friendship he so dutifully upholds. Another part of me is afraid he'll die, and I won't know what to do. I can't even fathom what that would do to me emotionally and mentally, and I know damn well that I won't be able to make rent or pay bills. I probably be able to afford even less food. And yet another part of me doesn't want to tell him because what if I am indeed wrong right now? What if my depression is so severe that this is how I honestly think, but there is a point? Do I not owe him a solid conviction to the opposition? I will also eventually die, shouldn't I at least keep living if only to uphold my end of the bargain?

But where do I get what he got? Where's the person so convinced that not only is my life worth living, but that life in general is?

I carry a great deal of weight that I don't need to carry. I just don't know how to walk without it. So much was expected of me, and all I can do is feel guilty that I'm not what people thought I'd be. This is not a controllable feeling that I can simply shake off.

But I'm nothing more than bones and the flesh around it. i'm just a husk. I do not believe all people are just bones and flesh.. but I am. I'm so empty that that hypothetical "hole" people speak of is the only way to describe what I am. I am the hole. Dead air and memories.

I do just want to die. I don't want to kill myself, but I want to die. just slip away into nothing. Close my eyes and stay asleep until I am no longer breathing.

I have two shifts at two different jobs tomorrow. Missing either will ensure I lose the job. I wonder what will happen? I'll probably go to both anyway. I want to just stay in bed.. but I'm obligated to leave the house and bring back money.

But I really hope I die in my sleep.

I wish I had more weed.

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