402

Why.

Why, every time that something good happens, does something bad happen?

I just don't get it. I honestly don't understand what I was saying in my last entry. Why would I confess to somebody who has the possibility of disappearing at any time? I would've known that it would just hurt all the more later, so why? Why did I confess?

Not that it matters.

I have no memory of the event anyway.

That's right. I have no memory of this person who comforted me and made me laugh. I have no memory of this person who I said I had feelings for. None at all.

Obviously, my feelings weren't that deep.

Aside from that, my days are pretty normal. I wake up, do the stuff, then go back to sleep. Yeah, I know, 'stuff' very specific. But I can't reveal any details or this journal will be deleted when I or somebody else is. Then all of my work would have been in vain.

But really, life here isn't all that bad. They feed you, house you, clothe you, educate you. Yeah, you have to work, but people do that in the normal world as well, right? Well, maybe not at such a young age, but even then some still do.

If you choose to ignore the deletions and depleting numbers, you could probably live quite happily. You may be a bit exhausted, okay, a lot exhausted, but you'd survive. I'm tempted to join them. Those people who ignore the reality and live in their own little worlds. They seem to be the happiest out of all of us.

Maybe it's better to just enjoy this life to the best of my abilities.