17/03/50

I have been thinking of death lately. The episode I had a few days ago really got me thinking. Is it really worth living? I don't do anything worthwhile. All I do is pretend to watch the parlor, pretend to be a dumb follower, and pretend to be happy. I don't know if I even remember what happiness feels like. I'm not sad or anything, but I'm not happy. I'm just plain unfeeling. Apathetic.

Death is not some glorious end to my eternal suffering… No, it's just making the inevitable happen sooner. At least there would be a lot less boredom on my part. It's not like anyone will be sad that I'm gone. My body will be burned right after, and life for my husband and friends will resume as usual. I'm not important to anyone, I do not make their lives happier or supply them with any great insight.

What is life without life? It is nothing, I guess. So if it is nothing, then I am nothing. And if I am nothing, am I not already dead? Is life worthwhile, or are only the things in life worthwhile? If it is the second, then most of us aren't living at all.

I think I have gotten nowhere with my musings. I'm traveling in a circle that doesn't ever reconnect, it just continually moves in a curve.

Maybe I'm just confused.

>Millie