Why Bother? (Letter From the Jailor #2)

I'm not that nice.

I’m not that nice.

Why bother getting out of bed? It’s not worth it.
Why bother getting dressed? You aren’t going out today.
Why bother eating? You’ll just get fat.
Why bother talking? People will just twist your words.
Why bother with manners? People are dicks.
Why bother with creativity? You will never be original.
Why bother cleaning? It’ll all get dirty again.
Why bother comforting the children? They will just get sad/mad/hurt again.
Why bother loving? You will just get hurt.
Why bother working? You will never be able to stop.
Why bother with life? You will die at the end, no matter what.

Why resist?
Why not die?
Why care?

Nobody will be bothered when you are gone.


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  1. I understand these statements. They are my IT, a snake which tangles in all aspects of my life and talks me into a pit. Hugs. It is worth the bother, even when our deluded critical selves tell us otherwise. For what its worth, I’ve had a similar time the past day and am struggling too. I wish we lived closer to we could just be in the same room for comfort. Z.

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