Shit World, Fragile Lives

 “Shit World, Fragile Lives”

September 11, 2025

2025 feels insane. I just want to stay in my room and shut everything out. The news makes me sick. A 78-year-old driver killed high school girls in Sanxia District, Taipei. Riots broke out in Indonesia. Charlie Kirk was assassinated—something I’m still shocked about. And then, the senseless stabbing of a 23-year-old Ukrainian girl in America.

All of these lives taken, wasted, cut short. Compared to them, my problems feel small. But they also remind me how fragile everything is. I take life for granted, not knowing what to do with it, not even trying hard enough to figure it out. Why climb the ladder of education if you could die in a crash tomorrow? Why work when death could strike out of nowhere? Why pursue anything at all if it’s meaningless in the end, if evil always finds its way in?

I just want to stay in my room and do nothing. I don’t want to harm anyone, and I don’t want to be harmed. I never asked to be born—none of us did—but at least I can choose not to add misery to someone else’s life. If surviving means zero-summing someone else, then maybe I don’t want to live at all.

I don’t want to be super rich. I only want enough for myself. Why can’t the rich feel the same? Why can’t people know when enough is enough, when to share, when to stop taking more, when to stop bothering others? If everyone lived with that balance, this world could actually be good. But it isn’t. It’s mostly a shit world, with only patches of flowers here and there—little hopes growing out of the rot. Still, mostly shit.

Sometimes I wish I could just live in a hotel room forever and never go out. Just hide away. The world outside feels too ugly, too cruel, too exhausting.

College schedule 114

And then there’s the strange coincidence: the very day I signed up for my new course, trying to signal to myself that I’d keep pushing through college instead of dropping out, Charlie Kirk was murdered in my sleep (because of the time difference). He believed college was a scam—and I agree with him. My experience makes it clear. But here I am, still going through meaningless modules, still grinding for grades that don’t matter, only because I don’t have a real choice. If I want to stay in this country, I have to play the game.

Even if it feels meaningless. Even if the world feels like it’s falling apart.

—Fish N Steve

Would you like me to extend this one into a longer, more expository reflection (like your earlier essay-style entry about school), or keep it in this raw, journal-like style?