Death

. . .I totally don't deserve to be here. Nevermind the christian rationale that we all don't deserve to be here because of sin, etc, but I personally don't deserve to be here in University. I feel like some commoner from the slums of Paris being brought into the Courts of Versailles. Sure I'm able to match wits with any of them, I possess the same sets of manners and etiquette, but I'll never get to attend their balls or functions because I simply don't have enough money. Dear readers already are aware of my destitution, so I shan't delve explicitly into my lack of funds. But to put things into perspective, I have $0.66 left on my student card with which to buy food on campus, and -$485.44 in my bank account, with technically $14.56 available funds remaining because of my $500 overdraft protection. Isn't life grand?
. . .I know I'm not the only one in the world who's suffering. There are countless others who have it far worse than I do. But despite the macroscopic view on life, I still sink deeper into the pit of despair. If it weren't for a certain special someone, I should by rights be dead right now. It pains me to know that that someone thinks of me as a user, and of course, I cannot help but use that person's resources for my continued survival.
. . .God, I'm such a cheap beggar. I read all these books about nobility, artistocrasy, all the grand events and lives of the people past and their elaborate systems of etiquette, tact and decorum. And what do I have to show for it? A cheap, dirty beggar. My illusions of erudition dispelled, I know not what else I can do. Except die, of course.
. . .That person doesn't even read my blog. Oh well. Nobody likes to read unhappy things anyways. Makes commenting all the more awkward, so I guess it's just as well. But in anycase, I *would* like to thank that certain someone for helping me survive. I know I'm annoying, imperfect, high-maintanence and impossible to put-up with at times, and I thank you for enduring all these faults of mine. Should God allow me to continue to live, I'll be sure to remember your kindness and return the gesture when I am able. However, as things stand right now...
. . .Death is indeed the easy way out. Why is it, then, that few of us can afford this luxury? And so, I continue to live in this half-state of awareness, fluttering between depression when I look at my life to delusion, the only release I have from these dark times and troubles.
. . .Am I a private person? Yes. Why then, am I publishing this post, for non-close friends and aquaintences to read? I suppose it's a subconcious, cheap cry for help. Not like it ever gets answered anyways. We've already successfully driven nobility to extinction and raised a new society in which only the ruthless are able to financially succeed.
. . .And unfortunately, this isn't kindergarden. I don't have the option of sitting out and refusing to play. And so, I slowly learn the rules and strategies of the game. I should think that in five or ten years I'll look back to this entry of depression and weep at my gross indulgence of emotion. I don't like being disillusioned. I like even less these days of destitution. I expect the unfolding events to convert me into a hardened man, with no dreams, aspirations or notion of charity. Perhaps whatever innocence remains will finally be slain. Afterall, what good is purity in this world?