I really don't mind being alive. I know life can be good and blah blah. I've lived it. Been there. Had my illusion that this has to be paradise and had it shattered by some internal whatever (I'm not saying it was aliens...Lol). I enjoy little things like going for a walk for a few hours, feeding ducks at the lake, writing, watching kids play (until I remember how they are not my kids and how weird it must be for a man to be 29 and not have any, nor have met any woman who even thinks he is worthy of dating even a few months before cheating), a good cup of tea, oragami, or even just taking a nice shit (I know attractive, right?). But what value can you put into life when life constantly is there to remind you that you and your legacy as a person is not worth continuing? That the closest you can be to becoming a father is to donate some sperm and afterwards never see that creation again. Never get to talk to it, hold it, comfort it, teach it, raise it. Just a magazine, and a five minute or few hour experience (however ling I wish to drag it out I suppose) and that's it. I do that enough on my own thought the week. I mean, is that all I'm really worth in this world? Just a broken and discontinued model ready to be crushed but slowly just rusting away? IDK. If I could do it over, I would have never taken any gal to dinner, had never given a massage, had never been that good friend they keep running back to, had never left women to their choices in which has always resulted in me not being a choice to them. I look back at life and have but one regret. Living. If you have read this thank you for your time.
Loser, out! :)