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July 10, 2013
I've never been through enough in my life to say I struggled so hard I could die. Despite knowing this, whenever I do "struggle," it just feels so difficult. Desperation knocks behind my mindshield, pushing its way through. Without exertion, it will definitely overwhelm me, driving me deeper into depression.

So I just have to give up. But it's so hard to give something up, when, as much as it could bring you icy sorrow, it could bring you an equal amount of warm happiness.

It's a drug. An addiction. A paradox.

It's life. It's love.

It's meaningful.

And meaningless.