Another Week

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.

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