Since I've been on the medication, I've been mostly okay, but my suicidal thoughts still remain. I am more curious in death than understanding why we're here. I know that no one really knows why we're here, but why is it worth it? Staying? I don't want to work and pay bills. I don't like talking to people, or connecting. Life is just pointless to me. I don't believe in a god. I don't believe in anyone in fact. I haven't offed myself even if I'm okay, because I feel like there's no point, but I also have no desire to live. I'm struggling. Once, I start to feel something, such as actually doing something with my life, I automatically lose it. I am literally a waste of space on this planet. People think I'm weird, or a psycho and I am. I'm a loser. I have this thing that everyone and everything is fake; not real. I like to say what's on my mind, so I can watch people's discomfort, or the hurt that flashes across their face. I hate people. I hate this world. This sad pitiful world. Should I stay even if I'm miserable? We all die anyways. Should I just go sooner? What's so pleasureful about this world anyways? Is it because it's all we've ever known?