Isn't it exhausting?

This blog can just be renamed "The Gradual Loss of the Innocence of Youth".  I don't just mean that in the sense of how I constantly obsess over AizenxIchigo yaoi fanfics.  I mean that as I get older, the lesson of life's unfairness is constantly being reinforced.  I'm not talking about me not getting the prettiest looks, or being born into the richest family, or some whiny little teenage boy that I have a crush on ends up liking someone else, or whatever bad luck I feel like I'm having-- those trivial problems make me want to barf whenever I hear someone complaining about it like it's the end of the world.

What I suppose I'm trying to say is, this world is such a hypocrite.

Why teach us to be objective if you'll only play favorites later?
Why force others to be Christian if you'll only verbally abuse them later?
Why promise us the opportunity of a lifetime if you don't know for sure?
Why claim to be acting in my best interest when you don't even know what you're doing in the first place?

You can't really trust anyone.  Perhaps not even yourself.

But as discontent as I feel right now, I think the lesson most impressed into my brain recently is that my own opinions don't really matter.  At all.  I hate to be a self-hating defeatist, but I know I serve no purpose on this world besides to take up space.  I can feel it wherever I go.

If I never attended the high school I did, my classmates would be able to live just as well as they do now.  Perhaps they'd enjoy themselves more without me there, since most of them seem to find me so intolerable.
If I never went to church, there'd be precious few who'd ever notice my absence.
If I was never born, my family would probably be a lot different.  My mom would still be able to have kids.  And if they never knew I existed, then... everything that was my fault never existed either.

It's tiresome, knowing that anything you have to say won't ever make a difference, nor was it ever meant to.  I'm just... there.  It's like that theme in Haruki Murakami's book after the quake.  I'm empty.  I'm completely devoid of anything.

I take these depressing tales, of books such as After the Quake, The Fourth Treasure, and Crime and Punishment.  Of manga like Kimi no Knife, A Falsified Romance, Masca, and Hana no Namae. I collect terrible, tragic, dark productions and cradle them, cherish them like they were images of the Bible.  I love them because they comfort me, tell me that there is a quiet tranquility, a mute order, in the opposite of what I live for and what I ever hoped to be.

There is beauty in failure, in immorality, in insanity.  It can be something to be envied, to be desired.  The humility in knowing without ever changing the fact: status as the lowest of the low.

Meaningless.  That's what this all is.