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What's the point of being alive when you're mentally ill as fuck

CaptainWacky

CaptainWacky

I want to smell dark matter
and nothing makes sense and you PHYSICALLY can't enjoy things or feel the same pleasure as normal people and you know you're just going to die and it goes on and on and on without any interaction with anyone else because you're incapable and on and onfds anljldfh0
 
In all honesty, I'm starting to sync with this wavelength.

Life is getting...strange.
 
I think I diverged.
 
2012 LOLZ
 
FUCK KIL
 
No need, things will go down the drain in 2012.
 
CaptainWacky said:
and nothing makes sense and you PHYSICALLY can't enjoy things or feel the same pleasure as normal people and you know you're just going to die and it goes on and on and on without any interaction with anyone else because you're incapable and on and onfds anljldfh0
Click to expand...

this idea is predicated upon the belief that anyone feels pleasure. the world is a sewer, and we're all rats trying to find our next dog turd so we can fill our bellies.

the older i get, the less honest fun and pleasure i experience, and the more toil and work i take on. then, about once a month, we'll go out and drink a little and this artificial happy will overtake me, only to come crashing down the following morning when i head to work for the 12th day in a row.
 
perhaps we'll be rewarded in the mayan afterlife with some corn.
 
Wacky, I think that you, Loktar, and I should all live together. Think of the fun times we'd all have together! :D
 
Exactly Wackster! That's exactly why I suggest to my ex sister-in-law, almost daily that she off herself.

Kidding, kidding...I don't want to go to jail MySpace style! OMG! LOL! WTF! XYZPDQ!!
 
We could seek pleasure through preying on those even more mentally ill than we, but then in the end me and Dual would turn on Loktar and kill him, then Dual would kill me, then Dual would have nothing and shack up with LG's sister-in-law but it turns out me and Loktar faked our deaths to team up to kill Dual, but we're both felled by massive heart attacks as soon as we burst out of his wardrobe and shout "RIGHT, TIME TO DIE, DUAL AND LAKER GIRL'S...AH, OUR HEARTS!"
 
I can see that happening.
 
The MF loony bin.
 
Wacky, if you're ever half serious about any of these threads, I really do wish you'd go to a doctor and talk to them. The worst thing anyone can do is bottle it up over long periods of time.
 
I'm fully serious about all of them at the time (well, most) and doctors and psychologists haven't really helped so far.
 
When you're "mentally ill" you aren't responsible for your own actions. You can waddle up to some strange chick and pull her shirt off and see how far you can get before they drag you off of her.

That's enough reason for living right there.
 
She usually over powers me.
 
Good advice! I've tattooed it to the inside of my eyelids.
 
Think of all the Big Brother Episodes you'd miss...
 
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