I am torn between the wish to die and end my relative misery or trying to fight some more and live another day- another week.
My health got to a point where I know I am really sick-- body and mind, but even faith can't seem to help. All I ever pray is "please, allow me to leave this world, because this isn't a life anymore". There is someone I love and I cherish every little moment talking to him, but the outcome will still be the same. I want out-- my body want out. Now I take it one day at a time, it's all I can manage. I don't make plans, I don't do anything at all.
This is why everything feels surreal. I have to wonder why I do the simplest of acts. Showering, changing clothes so as not to always look like a walking corpse. I wonder why it's this way and I do everything in the dark-- dark is a comfort. It makes the unbearable, bearable, in some way.
I've stopped looking for meaning in an existence that probably do not have any--, what gave meaning to this existance before? I have no idea. Maybe it never had any meaning, any sense, and everything was supposed to end like this.
It's survival. Getting ill made me see the world through my emotions only. What I was trying to say is--
Yes. I don't want to be fixed, cured. I simply want out. Find out the meaning of life through death and see if there is anything beyoond that would give me the freedom of being outside this cage.