What's this?

Life is always preferable to death. Living has always been the forte of the soul and it’s servitude towards the body.
Despite knowing this fact, I look for an alternative to it. It may be death. Or, it may be something else other than the life. The resolve to live and the pursuit for it’s values has long been the delicate intention of living. But the body and soul, and the person that I have preserved ever since I came to this world seem to long for something else other than life. It’s hard for me pretend like living, while most of my senses delude me. I really don’t know if the sharp edge of a blade has better purpose than the words I seek to refuse.