I have contemplated my life, and what I have accomplished, and how I have changed.
upon viewing the past, and studying it, experience by experience, I have counted the many times that I've destroyed and recreated my personality. each time modifying it ever so slightly to the needs of other people. adding a happy disposition to each, to ensure that no one else has to feel anything but happiness when their around me. I don't like causing people pain. or unhappiness. I also don't like it when others cause me pain. so it would appear that I am constantly at an impasse with my own mind. I also have realized that I am a fairly unstable person. I've contemplated taking my life a few too many times, I've contemplated cutting myself a few times as well, always somehow talking myself out of the instances. does this mean I'm insane? probably not.
does this mean that I despise myself in almost every aspect?
indubitably.
but life just isn't worth giving up right now. its too early to give up. that's what I keep telling myself. somehow it always works.
people tell me I complain too often. but that's merely because I have no shoulder to cry on. I've never told anyone my problems, because no one wants to care. no one wants to hear me. and because of these realizations, I began to speak to the only one that can hear me. myself. tragical maybe, and yet I have found my own Nirvana somehow by diving deeply into my thoughts, and finding seclusion from the world that only uses me as a stepping stool. I've asked myself many times: "what would this world be like without me? what imprint to I have on this world?" I found that the only imprint I have on the world, is the few thousand people I've met... it would bring tears to some of their eyes if I were to take my own life. and so I sit here, in this monotonous grey society. wondering just when I will not have to boost everyone up with an insincere optimistic mood, and when finally I will have my time. my moment. and now I realize, my moment, may not even happen. but that's not going to stop me. it almost feels like lady luck hates me. like she just needs me to accomplish her whims for other people. but I don't care what she wants. I'm not just a stepping stool. someday, some way, she's going to have to give me that moment. or I won't let her use me anymore.
lacrimosa apatheosis · Thu Jan 07, 2010 @ 10:24pm · 0 Comments |