Empty doesn't describe it. Pain doesn't describe it. I can only put it as suffering. Forced to continue existing. I don't know why I'm here anymore. I don't feel like I have a purpose anywhere. I don't fit in anywhere. I don't want to fit in. I don't want to accept anyone so I wear a mask. I wear it so well I even believe myself sometimes.
But in the back of my mind, I know all my pleasure is fake. The closest I've been to happy is when I live it through my family or friends. And since I can't experience that day to day, I realize I haven't felt joy since.
I'm not a good lover. I'm not a good brother. I'm not a good friend. I'm not serving any purpose. I hate my occupation. I hate my environment. I hate being expected to perform when all I want to do is suffer in the shadows.
I have no goals, I have no dreams, and I have no talent or skill. I'm just a pawn in the game of life. I take the route that lets me in but leads to nowhere. I live a life others have before. A life others have lived. One that they gave purpose to. Something I failed to do. Something I know I won't get the opportunity to.
I hate everything and yet don't care. My insignificant role in this world is made even more insignificant everyday. I feel as if I'm walking with a countdown over my head that everyone can see but me. Something that informs them I am only temporary.
I know if I left, no one would grieve. No one would understand and therefore not care to understand. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to make others happy. I wanted to see my lover smile and laugh.
The world doesn't need me and I know it. I don't want to believe it but I know it. I'm just a trashcan for people to throw clutter into. A shredder that takes it all and turns it into nothing. Everything thrown at me comes out meaning nothing in the end. I'm a catalyst used for making nothing happen.
If i fail as a positive contribution, then why bother. I will continue clinging to the nothingness I feel. It is all I know. It is all I will ever know.

This is contentment.