Rant 3.

 holy fuck,

i’d never be happy; i’d never lead a happy life.

i’d never be able to get married (i never wanted to get married), and i don’t even want to have kids

(why bring new trauma when my own trauma is not finished yet).

i’d never be happy.

i wish to die.

Maybe nobody would care about me being dead,

or care about my body,

as they’d never care about a body of a dog

scattered all the way on the road,

with its blood all dark red,

spilled all on the road—

with vehicles not caring about the soul of it,

while still driving on it:

crushed to pain,

crushed by the humanity,

CRUSHED.......