rants from a soul-less being

I tend to forget the reason-s- to keep on getting up in the morning.
scratch that, I tend to forget the reason to keep on getting up at all, and start on living.
It’s not that I’d rather be dreaming all the time, because at those times I only have nightmares

have no idea what am i gonna do with my life, or if i have enough courage of being out there, alone, trapped in the midst of a face-less ocean of people.

I’d say i was scared, but i really do not feel anything at all.

Don’t get me wrong. I do not wish to die, but living is something I’m not keen on either.

Is this normal?
Is being normal a good or a bad thing?

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