It isn't that I'm depressed, or going through an existential crises, or that I'm morbidly nihilistic, right now.
It's that I'm just . . . done.
I found my answers to the big philosophical life questions, and I'm ready to turn my test in and go home.
I'm done. That's it. Please don't keep me here any longer. I've done my very best to be patient, to pass the time with things that were interesting, and enjoyable, and artistic, things that made me laugh and cry and feel alive and happy and sad, and now. . .I'm done. I've suffered through some of the most horrific ego death, some of the most painful destruction and reconstruction of my soul, I've even physically died, or almost died (three times!), and I'm just. . .done. I've seen the negative in life, I've seen the horrible things people do to each other in war, I've seen the horrible things that people do to each other after war, I've seen the horrible things that only people who have been in war have seen. I've endured psychological torment and emotional abuse on a grand scale, I have lived the ascetic and artistic life, have been to the end of the rainbow and found no practical use for what was in the pot. I am done.
Please, someone, anyone; please help me out of this hellscape of mundane absurdity populated by giants of mediocrity and complacency. Please, I want more out of life, more beauty, more reason, more than the terrible warzone of humanity versus itself.
It's okay, I know there's no one that wants to rescue me. This is just how I torture myself.