Not sure why I struggle...why remain conscious...why would I want to die when I could live? Why is it so easy, but so difficult? Everything is full of abstract juxtaposition, of self-loathing, and sporadic moments of true contentedness. If I was being honest, I fantasize about my death. But there are certain parts of my life that I really like. I feel eternally conflicted. Sorry this was so vague. I guess most of all I'm just scared of the future, sometimes doubting its sincerity of being an improvement to my current situation. I also am losing sight of the point. I don't have goals, I don't have an idea of what my career will be, or even how my social life will end up. I'm scared I'll end up alone, so utterly alone as I feel now. It feels so hopeless, endless, and vapid.