Death by Cookies.

Truth with respect to time. It might be the truth at one moment, but a lie the moment after.

Will I understand the whole meaning of "life" when I'm dead and buried in the ground?

Noooobody knows.

Death should be absolute. It is known for a fact that everybody should die. Will die. But that bastard Schrodinger messed that one up too, didn't he? But nah, essentially, we're all dead. It's just a matter of time. You're alive now, but you might be dead the next.

I ate 5 moldy chocolate-covered cookies just now. I might die in a few hours. I don't know. But actually, that is not what inspired me to write this overwhelming morbid post. Heck, if you've known me for a while now, you should have known that I'm always on the pessimistic side. Always talking about how better things are if we're all just die. Dead and gone. I'm pretty sure I sounded quite depressed and disturbed to those who follows me on twitter. Well I am. I know for a fact that I'm quite depressed, I just don't know why. There are a couple of things that may or may not contribute to my depression, but I think it's irrelevant. Why? Because it doesn't matter what happened in the past, because I don't think I'm emotionally affected by all those things anymore. In fact, what I'm feeling now is closer to absolute nothingness. I'm bored of life, really.

But do I want to die though? No. I don't really feel like I want to die yet because there's no guarantee that I'll feel better when I do. And I could still have some fun while I'm still alive and kicking. We're all going to die sooner or later so what's the rush?

Have I ever thought of killing myself before? Yes. No elaboration needed.

This whole thing about myself being unhappy with life, I think it works well with my masochistic nature. So I'm okay with things. But I can't change the way that I feel about things. They are what they are. The problem starts when other people assume that I have a problem with life. Well, those people can suck my imaginary cock, really. People just suckk. Life is hard enough as it is, why would they want to make it worse for me. I might be okay with life, but people, yeah, sometimes, they do make me feel like killing myself. For what it's worth, I think some medication would be awesome. Anything that could make me trip is awesome.

To sum it all up, I don't have a problem with life, I have the problem with the people. No people, no problem. In that sense, I guess dying is some sort of a solution because you could get away from all the annoying people.

Or you can be a social recluse like me.