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To you, the reader, my significance is just that of a passerby out on a crowded street, or maybe even a mall. You probably did not even remember the last person who walked passed you or even bumped into you. Better yet, perhaps I am even less significant than that. Chances are you have not seen me or even heard me once throughout this lifetime. I have a question, what is the value of life? Is the value of one life more important than the value of another? Is the passerby in the town just as important as your mother or your spouse? With all honesty you probably would not value the stranger as much or more than the person you are familiar with. With that said, why are you still reading this? Have I really captured your attention this far or are you required to read this? I am writing from my brain. There is only one permanent truth that will be comprehended from my words. The truths of today are not the same as the truths of tomorrow. Is that true? Could it really be that the truths do not change but the human does? Alternatively, maybe its just their mind?
He Puts Me Down Way Too Much
Yesterday, I had the one of the biggest scares of my life. There was absolutely nobody I could talk to about it. There was no shoulder for me to cry on, no arms to hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. I had to man up and take it, by myself and alone. I was already on the ground and kicked some more. Realized that as always my love is as usual, s**t on. I was made to feel inferior, unimportant, and irrelevant. I was put down, reminded of my downfalls, told that they were everything, reminded that even my successes were failures. I faced my fear today and to my relief, I learned that things are going to be okay. I also realized that I no longer enjoy or like the environment that I am in, and do not want an extended future there. I want to reside in a positive place where I am not put down by so many awful words. I have always been in this kind of environment I didn't escape it just to go back into it. Throughout it all the only thing in my head was resentment and those are feelings I never wanted to have. That's what happens to stray dogs. They have nobody to rely on, nobody to trust, nobody in the world but themselves. Nobody knows the real me, everybody sees a failure. I hate being so alone, I hate knowing that no one can be trusted. I hate that I was wrong, that there are no good people in this world.

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