Another week has gone by And I've done nothing Written nothing new Cooked nothing Applied myself to nothing This is one of the many weeks that I have lived that make me realise that everything i need is provided to me by others. Better have everything provided to me than have to provide everything to everyone else I suppose. But I wish I could do more than just survive. But what the hell could I do that meant something to me but didn't mean anything to anyone else Because fuck everyone else I feel like those are the only options I have been given Is to serve myself or serve someone else One has lead to me hating everyone else the other has lead to me hating myself Does crafting a fucking marble table mean more to me than jerking off five times in a day? Getting a lung disease in order to serve the bougie is more important than cumming for my own selfish desires. But these days I feel nothing coming from either of those activities. The opium I've had, and tried to get off of, gets more chemicals into my brain than masturbating ever could. But when working in a factory you never feel any accomplishment the way people are supposed to. When you build a table, no matter how shitty it is there's a sense of pride that you've built something. When you build a marble table for some multi-million dollar real estate company you feel nothing Because now there's a new table to craft, and that won't meant anything to you either. Maybe it'll mean the drugs you need to take to feel human. Masturbation, work, dopamine. We live in a world that's inhuman but that needs humans. And I don't know if I should participate in it or not Because I've done both And I still feel nothing. Not human Not machine Just Nothing.