When I was younger, I was dead set on the fact that I was going to die at an early age. I made every attempt to be cold, callous and detached from everyone around me because I didn’t want to bear the responsibility of anyone’s life being screwed up as a result of my passing. I didn’t want to be missed. I didn’t want to be mourned. I wanted to leave as if I had never been there.
I didn’t die. Sometimes I’m disappointed. And sometimes I’m not. But right now, I’m ambivalent…and I hate being ambivalent. But I’m still here…so I guess I may as well try to make something of it, even though the trend of my life has proven that my efforts are mostly futile.