8.8.2000

Sometimes I feel that I cannot choose. That I have no options to choose from. That this life is decided for me. That it has been decided for me long before I was born. I have no options.

It's terrifying. It's like I was walking down a long corridor where monsters were chasing me and there were no auxiliary exits. I have to run till the corridor stops and the monsters finally get to me. It's like I was looking at an endless corridor, knowing full well that the end is there, that the pain and fear and meaningless death awaits but I can't even see it yet. The corridor is so long... neverending. And I have to run down it in full awareness, knowing what the end will be like, knowing that there is no escape. The only option is to stop and hurry the inevitable, but I have neither strength nor courage for that.

So I choose to run, for all eternity it seems like.
Sometimes I try to stop and sometimes I try to distract myself. I like to deny the reality. I have to, because it'd be too much to bear.

I dislike being alive and therefore I choose not to care.
But I can't really choose anything. I can do nothing but exist and follow the plans I didn't make. My time, my society, myself limit my options. Opening one door closes all others. Not opening any door means they'll all stay closed. I can't find a door I could open. I can't find a possibility. I can't find anything. It could be that this is because there are no options. No possibilities. Nothing. There's only the seemingly endless corridor. And me, of course. Me, who is good for nothing, unwilling to learn, incapable of caring.

I'm emotionally dead. I've always been. I can't feel a thing. Even when I'm in a situation I can't bear, like talking on the phone, I don't feel anything. I just can't make my throat to work. Do physical sensations constitute as emotions?

Back again.