Is life unpredictable? Or a assortment of meanings behind it? So follows my recent relationship and how I want to move on.

How I wonder about the meaning really of everything that has happened to me. How I see, people who care, shun you instantly with no regrets, how things dissapear and start anew and you wonder why they were there in the first place. Where is my life truly starting? Atleast on a solid structure?

Atleast, there has got to be a meaning for this life. Atleast, then, we wouldn't feel suicidal, wouldn't we?

Otherwise, heart hurts, and I wonder why I wasted all my years so much into something that just became nothing really. Perhaps it's just the world is just a fucking cesspool of hate and the west culture is fucking shit compared to the east? I would figure.