Journal Entry #6

Dear Digital Journal,

It has been quite some time since I wrote in you. I have been mostly working on autopilot for the past few weeks since I find no joy in interacting with the world any more. The thought process is just to survive, slowly distance myself from oversharing my life or sharing much details abut my life at all. If I die, then I die. I do not fear the possibility of death, and I still yearn for it as it is easier to die than to have to experience these feelings. The caring part of me wanes, and the more I want to care for the people I care about, the less I do care for them. My sympathy for others wears thin; I do not know why and neither is it important for me to understand why. I'm simply trying to live life if only for my own sake. Since my cowardice is responsible for me being alive at this very moment, I have to deal with the fact that I have to survive. To do that, I have to work ahead, do as much work as possible, so as to lessen the heavy load later. A stable life is hard enough to earn after all...

I tire of caring for people who do not wish to care for themselves. It is easy to reason myself into caring for others because I do not wish for them to deteriorate, but if they should want to downspiral into their own demise, then who am I to stop them? I listen for their cries for help, and my hand is always there, but since I am not acting under autopilot, I no longer have the functionality to grab after people any more. While it pains me to watch them spiral out of control, it is their own personal choice that has led them to their conclusion. I am not a god who divinely intervenes to save people from trouble. At my core, I myself am corrupted, and I need to be saved too. However, I never ask for help because I know how taxing it is being the person always having to cheer up the other or to be their ear when they vent. Silently suffering, I go along as if nothing happened. I do my best to hide it; it's what I've done for the past adolescent years of my life. Whether it's the adult decision to switch into autopilot or the childish decision to not say what I really think so that they could understand, it does not matter. The result will be the same.

Some fear the state of being all alone, but really, it becomes mind-numbing. Autopilot has taught me that I can make my own way even if I am alone. We die alone, born alone, and stand alone in many points of life. Maybe this is one of those times. Frustration overtakes me and fatigue knocks at my door. I pray that death may sweep me up this dark night, but if it shall not, let me stay in this state of apathy because being numb is better than having to feel anything at all.