sitting here, looking back on the last few years, i try to remember how many people told me it would tear out my soul. and did it? i really don't know. i don't actually remember ever really having a soul that i felt was truly worth holding onto. was i ever not bitter and cynical? do any of the people that really know me ever remember me being friendly and happy? or even enjoying my existence for longer than twelve hours? who or what decides happiness isn't just a boredom or a flat-out refusal to kill myself? and why haven't i done that yet? as taboo as everyone thinks it is, i really believe that suicide (along with abortion) are mankind's gift to itself. but do i think i belong in that group that really has nothing to offer other than a few thoughts and leaving some space on earth for a few more idiots? i want to do something about this, but i have no clue as to what. and there is nothing to be done, really, but sit it out and wait for the balance to continue to work its way through the universe. but there still sits this question, solid and heavy in my mind, blocking any other progress... and what would any progress i might make really be for? humanity and me are both going to be destroyed; so i should enjoy myself while i'm here. my problem is the circle itself, that i cannot make myself enjoy this carousel, it spins too fast to even notice what is going on outside the blurry stream of colours and faces. we are stuck, with no way off. and i'm going to be sick.