共感で繋がるSNS
人気
Abdullah
129
東雲(しののめ)
There are countless things I should do, countless things I want to do… and yet, it’s strange.
When will my life ever become something vibrant and fulfilling?
I’m sick of myself—unable to steadily build up effort or ingenuity.
Even this self-criticism is just another form of weakness, nothing more than a self-indulgent, unproductive gesture.
I’ve long since grown weary of this shabby, pitiful life.
I’m exhausted… perhaps it’s about time to call it quits.
At the latest, within the next fifteen years, my life will reach its end—one way or another.
Either I’ll collapse into ruin, or I’ll manage a rebirth. There are only those two futures.
…And yet, I suspect that fifteen years from now, I’ll still be dragging myself along, living on aimlessly.
That’s the kind of lukewarm person I am. For someone worthless like me, even being alive at all is a blessing—how greedy it is to want more.
In truth, I should accept my place, feel gratitude for the present, and learn to be content with what I have.
But I am a fool, blinded by greed, always craving more. It’s a nature utterly at odds with my laziness.
I carry all these desires, yet lack the discipline and persistence to fulfill them—and that very idleness is the true root of my suffering.
My own powerlessness fills me with a deep, seething rage.
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