i dont know why I'm alive, maybe that's what's messing with me..? or is it that death will always seem better than life? just the absence of everything seeming better than "things"... more than one religion believe material reality is the cause of all suffering... why do i feel sick? why do i want to be "sick"... what insanity has caused me this desire? why do i want to tear into my flesh so much? what worth do i have? why's talking to other humans sometimes such bad of an experience? the things i say in my head? why do i say those things? where's the damned root of all this mess? ive excavated everywhere inside my mind, and there's still place left to excavate, and it's a lot... oh do i wish a memory came and gave me clues as to where I'll find things, the effort of excavating and the amount of nothing I've been getting is annoying