Empty hallways provide me that comforting reminder that my life is meaningless; it has no point, it has no value, and thank fucking God it’s hopeless; that comforting reminder that I mean absolutely nothing, that I’m alive alone, I’ll die alone, I was born from nothing and to nothing I will return; that comforting reminder that I don’t exist and that this whole world doesn’t exist, it’s all just my imagination — these things, these people, these events, these happenings, these feelings, these thoughts are all just made up for the sole purpose of my simultaneous pleasure and suffering; that comforting reminder that without me life continues and that I’m not a part of history; that comforting reminder that time doesn’t exist; that comforting reminder that sometime somewhere I’m me but not me; that comforting reminder that sometime somewhere I am dead and nothing but nothing changes. This comforts me; it keeps me sane.
