The Obscure

I suddenly realize for the millionth time that my life is meaningless

Yes, I'm pretty sure that sums everything I feel right now up into a nice little package.
We had a family party today, and after family parties I always fall into an irritatingly inescapable depression. I don't know why exactly, I think it is just because I am always made terribly aware of how different I am than my entire family; and that, in turn, makes me realize how different I am from most people, which makes me realize how alone I am on this rock and also makes me understand that that is something that will never change.
I have gotten rid of most of my demons by utilizing large doses of psychiatric medications, but just because my depression (and to a certain extent, insanity) is gone, by no means are the reasons behind my depression gone. While depressed and slightly more insane I wasn't able to feel all the things that made that way, my mind and soul were concentrating too hard on being miserable. The lithium will not allow that, and now all of my self-loathing, self-destructive habits, and understanding that I am a human anomaly have come back, stronger than they ever were. There are things I can do, yes, but enjoying living will never be one of them. I once wrote that I do not like existence, but I do like some of the people with whom I exist, the problem with suicide is that it would cut drastically into my social life.
But you see, I no longer care about my social life, I no longer care about life in general. Yet, I can't bring myself to end my own life, I don't know if it is out of cowardice or curiousity; courage, or a need to understand why I am here.
I am sick and FUCKING TIRED of mucking about in this shit! I am sorry that I do not have a more eloquent way to phrase that but there really isn't any. I hate people, I hate my life, I hate this horrible world, it's horrible ways, and all the fucking stupid things that we do to it.
We all keep fucking around like at the end of our stint here we might have accomplished something; I and all the rest of our hideous race was fed that lie with the breastmilk we sucked down before we were old enough to understand that it was bullshit, and we keep on chewing on that lie till the day we die so that we don't start to think about how goddamn pointless everything is. I hate it. I hate knowing that, or thinking that, or hallucinating that or whatever the hell it is I am doing.
And I hate fucking WRITING! Why can't I stop?! What did I do to deserve these awful things floating in my mind? What horrible sin did I commit that requires a punishment this powerful, that I have no choice but to constantly put down words?

There isn't anything else for me to say right now. Sorry about this post, maybe I'll go put a bullet in my brain.