Sometimes I stop and wonder what I am doing. Why am I doing anything anymore? The longer things go on, the bleaker everything looks. I've already experienced the happiest times I will statistically have throughout my life, and all that's left is to spend what life I have creating revenue for some corperation or making someone else's life worse, all while drifting away from any goal I've ever set and living in constant fear of having my rights taken away or being relegated to some lunatic fringe of society where I slowly die in obscurity. It keeps getting harder and harder to get up and see the flowers every morning, feeling like I can't change anything and that the world will just keep on getting worse, and that the only solution is to either get extremely lucky or literally die so that I don't have to deal with it. It really makes me wonder what the point of persisting in the first place is anyway. After all, if the only difference between dying now and dying later is that I'll be more misrable, why even bother? Why not just cease now, to avoid anything getting worse?

Maybe I'm just overthinking things.

Everything will probably be fine.