Compulsions to write, feeling like Ryan Gosling meme every day.

Sitting on a rented house whose design I somewhat disagree, feelings of emptiness rushed through my brain every single morning.

Pretend to be well, pretend to be rich before my ex-girlfriend, pretend to myself that I am handling the situation calmly, my daily ritual has became to chain-smoke expensive, smuggled Japanese cigarettes everyday. 

When I was 8 or something, a number where I fail to understand the weight of the world, I wanted to be a writer. With the current human condition, I started to lose understanding of this goal. To write is to create a connection among your audiences, but in a world where we are all forced to chuck down shit, I feel I am losing this audience. Perchace it is a Diogenic lifestyle that I long for, but I need to earn bread for my family, for it is still the secular objects that offer people with basic sense of security. The urge to benefit them is unresistable, even though my own somewhat radical ideologies is sacrificed :( I hate human being but they do not. 

Suppose I have a nuclear suitcase in front of me that would wipe out the entire human race on this planet, with a single press of a plastic, colourful button, I would smash that shit with no hesitance. My existence is nothing (a very buddist thought even though I'm not), but there is way too many people in this planet that believe their existence gave them the right to steamroll others, and perhaps there is a reason for them to exist in such quantities. It would seem that the pride that we hold in our own species is inherited. I just don't see the point to it. To me, the idea of having to end my suffering with one single tactile click is worth considering. Yes, I have received kindness and had a childhood, but no, the world is too cruel for kind people. In a somewhat darwinism reality, holding conscience to your prey is not the way to survive. But if you want to survive in the first place, you cannot be simultaneously enlightened, or morally elevated, or even consider any forms of sophiscation. 

This is only one of such things that I don't understand about the world, my race (as human being, but you can argue that I too don't understand chinese), and there are so many of them.