In the past two years, all I've thought about is dying. Dying is simply the easiest way out especially during times like this when you cannot fully enjoy life; when all you think about are worries and the pain that other people are probably experiencing with their loss. I am at the point of wanting to give up on life and just wanting to die. The only thing that keeps me glued to this world is my little family of Bears - Billy and Hoagie. But I wonder when would life be more worth it than death.

What is it really that could make one happy? After realizing how sudden death can come across you, I've realized how I must focus on things that matter; trying to find more time for things I enjoy and less for work. It is for this reason that I decided to quit (in addition to my anxiety attacks). And yet, here I am, still lost and trying to grasp how I can catch a glimpse of true happiness.

I just want a life I can fully dictate and not remain in the shackles of being responsible and miserable.

And I don't know how to handle it.

After several years I come back to the conclusion that labels are useless.

I am also a rational irrational, full of contradictions, unable to piece myself together into something concrete, with a solid form. I am always bending, flexing, changing and somehow I feel that it isn't good.