Yesterday I put myself a question: "What's better-to live without any enthusiasm or simply to exist?".
As for me-I am living without any inspiring passion for smth. I just like to study English, read books and make up balderdash stories, which bare some resemblance to the insane nonsense. Oh, I am also responsible for my body and appearance, but that's just another sob story.
Yeah, that's just what it looks like. I am like a robot, who is made to do some things, nothing more. Though I feel like now batteries are falling out of me. I am doing all by myself, people lose control over me, but still I feel like there is some bulb in my consciousness, that makes me act like Pavlov's toy dogs.
That's very difficult for me even to try to understand myself. Not to mention the fact, that people try to stay away from me. That's just obvious.
No one... Not a single one... None... Never...