n : an acute but unspecific feeling of anxiety; usually reserved for philosophical anxiety about the world or about personal freedom [syn: Angst]
Why is life so painful?
I realize just how much life really does suck. Yeah. There is always all this talk of how things will always get better. How if you just hold onto a little faith, that change is inevitable. And considering that I have been so haplessly trying to believe that, it seems that faith has undeniably eluded me.
Sometimes I just want to sit back and cry. To just in a blink, release all my pain. I envision a life of just being happy. To be free of this prison I've been slung into. But, despite all my efforts, I cannot seem to break the chains. And I know of the one thing that will, but there is uncertainty if that is even going to happen.
At times, I just feel like I am drowning. Faltering to dark side life's true onslaughts and slowly becoming part of the statistics. Throughout the years, I've lived in denial and veiled the truth to praise my own fantasies. But I have actually come to realization that is nothing but a substitute for what my heart has desired all this time. And now, as much as I try to fulfill the life I had so desperately tried to push back, it seems that even in this aspect, I am succeeding at only opening empty hands.
There are even times I cannot breathe. My depression is so great, I even begin to believe that hope has become completely lost. I've even begun to notice that only things of a dark nature seem to bring me the slightest comfort. Even the once wanted comfort given by friends as an always welcomed commodity, is now just but a meaningless attempt by endearing friends that does not help ease the pain. I've regressed so far in just a short time, the thought of leaning on a endless path has begun to swell in my mind. I even contemplate if there is even a future at all.
There are times... I just want to give up all hope. To just succumb to the shadows creeping into my heart and come to an understanding that the future I so desperately want to grasp, is just too far out of my reach. As young as I am, I don't want to live the rest of my life in such a pitiful existence. But, if it cannot be accompanied by the very aspect of what my heart is seeking. What is there even a point to even continuing?
Ahem; that brings back the horror -- excuse me while I go fetch a bucket into which I will forthwith empty the contents of my stomach. Then I'll come back, re-read this and giggle myself silly. Can you believe it was an adult woman who wrote this?