"Have you ever felt the emptiness? The feeling of nothing in your life?
Where everything just passes you by and never gives a second thought of turning around and looking at you? That feeling . . . where you don't feel you belong anywhere on this planet except in an unmarked grave where no one will miss you?
This void has haunted me for so long, shadowed my life, shackled me to the darkness and the endless silence of my soul. Fighting is pointless. Screaming for help is useless. In the end, all I have is myself; this broken down transport for a body, and a soul that has been tormented and belittled by almost anything life throws down upon me, and the heart made of an endless darkness.
I have never seen light, never felt warmth, never touched freedom, never embraced happiness.
And yet I still walk this earth, this satellite that floats aimlessly in its own endless void of lifeless darkness. I still torture myself, darkness and emptiness riding on my shoulders. I carry life; i dont walk with it. It will not allow me to stand with it on its own ground. I must carry it through the endless valley of sadness, illuminated by nothing but a darkened sun.
And then the only thing I can say is - whats the ******* point anymore?
Everywhere in the world, storms destroy houses, floods kill hundreds, blizzards trap thousands, wars kill millions. And yet, I live in a land where opportunity is ripe, free from most of the above, but all I can see is the shadowy figure of myself staring back at me. The scars on my eyes, the holes in my soul, the black hole swallowing my heart.
I pray, but for all the wrong reasons. I pray for trucks to hit me when crossing the street, pray for fire to destroy my flesh, pray for strength to finally destroy my soul.
I hate you. I hate you so much. I fight and fight, but all you do is dance around and dodge my attacks.
These pills we have to swallow, these endless doctors sessions we must attend, the ceaseless badgering of family and friends asking me am I alright.
If god was merciful, he should have ended my life long ago. My life is wasted here. Others that died in disasters have more right to be here than what I do.
Why have I been spared? Why? Is this torture meant to prove something to me? Meant to teach me a lesson? Is it a punishment?
I just want to find that one person . . . that single perfect person. Maybe they will know the answer. Maybe they will answer my prayers for salvation. Maybe . . . maybe they will let me cry.
I'm nothing more than a pathetic child trapped behind the blood and flesh of a man. I want to feel. I want to feel something . . . . anything. The world wants men that follow trends, that drink and dance, that drives fast cars, that earn millions and accept the world as it is. And yet, I am none of those.
I am what I am, and the world doesn't want me. Man look the other way. Women look down on me and taunt me for being a weak. I feel humanity has discarded me, and now I'm just resting on the junk pile, waiting for my turn to leave this life. Forever.
I just want to know what its like to hold someone. To know someone cares about me. To know that I am not alone. To see past the scars and torn soul, and see that I am not weird, or crazy, or an idiot.
To see that I am human.
But still I pray . . .
Maybe one day, I will be strong enough to release myself from this body and return to the universe. Maybe then I will belong."
"Being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent."
