Maybe some people would say fourteen is too young to die, but is there really anything meaningful to this existence? People assign so much meaning to life, saying it gets better and everything, but if no matter how hard I try to find some meaning, I can’t seem to truly care about anything, is it even possible to find any meaning? And if the quality of your life is just determined by your next ecstatic moment, then that’s just a life I refuse to live, because I remember a time when I cared about people I loved. Now, everyone feels untrustworthy and pathetic, and I can’t assign meaning to people like that. I don’t know. Maybe fourteen isn’t a good time to die. Honestly, I would’ve preferred to die last year. It’s not like thirteen year old me wouldn’t want to.