No purpose in life...

Take it all away from me, I don't deserve it. I'm a waste of time and resource, so I might be better off dead. All these years of life, all these years of emptiness, I've been drifting aimlessly. All dreams seem impossible, all goals seem unreachable. I keep falling, falling, in this bottomless pit. No parachutes, no grapple-hooks, nothing to clutch on to. That's okay, because even if there were, I probably won't feel motivated enough to use them.

I drift, I drift. I don't even know what I live for, as I can't find my purpose in life. Intangible goals ain't reachable, just like how you can't capture a cloud. I think of what I can do. Nothing, none that I can think of. I think of what I can't do. Everything, everything that seems possible, but not for me. All these time I spend doing nothing meaningful, except endless decisions about me. What should I do, what can I do?

I drift, I drift. I search all around, hoping to find my way out. But all the paths are taken by people much better than me, and I've got no chance. Once upon a time I thought my purpose in life was you, but I realise I don't have the right to. Even if I do, I ain't got the chance. I thought I found my path, only to discover it leads me back to square one. I sigh, looking at the ground, wondering if I should take another step or end it here.

I drift, I drift. The road seems to get darker and darker. I caught a glimpse of light. I turn expectantly towards it, and felt worse when I realised it was for someone else. Forget it, I lament, nobody cares for a nobody like me. I walk on.

I drift, I drift. I see illusions of a happier place, but illusions are illusions. I see a rest-stop! I proceed towards it. Finally, I thought, I don't have to walk on anymore. On the table I see a steep cliff. I step onto the edge. "Now I can finally rest eternally." But for some unknown reason, people saw me and won't let me rest. They pull me back on the road, blaming me for attempting this "foolish act" of taking a rest. They say I'm not supposed to rest yet. What a pain in the neck.

I drift, I drift. This must be dejavu, yet another stop. A blade on a table. How nice. In fact, it's perfect. I decided my left wrist to be the perfect spot. I look around. No one. Great. I pick it up, and leaned it against my obvious blood vessels on the wrist. Ah, I can already see an apparition of my body in the sleep of eternity. It's okay, just a quick jerk of the blade. I said: "Goodbye world, hope the next life would be better." I shut my eyes. ... Argh. An abrasion, but no blood. This blade sucks. I toss it aside and walk away. FML.

I drift, I drift. I find myself totally lost. The blade should have been sharper. I fail even more, getting from bad to worse, worse to worst. People are all ahead of me. But why do I care? Why do I work so hard for? To be rich? To enjoy life? Lies. I'm gonna be penniless, and I don't enjoy life a bit. Everytime I see a possible rest-stop, I procrastinate. What am I waiting for? I don't know why, but I keep missing the rest-stops. Every step I take makes me more and more lost. For now, I continue walking, hoping to succeed in either finding a purpose in life or a rest-stop for me to end this all.

I drift, I drift...