one single question

I ask myself, what is the purpose of it all? life has become a hollow thing. slowly, the vibrancy of the world dims, and terror takes hold; I have no desire to vanish into the grey. my shoulders are spent, burdened beyond their strength.

a phantom thought haunts me: what if I laid this weight upon those who have already passed? do the departed ache with fatigue as well? If so, why would they embrace the grave? for it seems we are both bound by the same relentless toil.