I walked without direction. I walked with my eyes closed. I never truly was able to get down on my knees and worship for no reason, but I tried, and said I could. I thought I should, because it's what I was told. It's what I saw happening around me. And because I thought I should, and because I tried, I was on my knees all along. My eyes could look no higher than the feet of someone, or something. I couldn't see the sun. I had to hide my face. I chased after fulfillment. But I was chasing blind, eyes closed, with no direction of any kind. Not only was I not fulfilled, I didn't know what fulfillment was. I couldn't have identified it even if I was capable of achieving it.

That directionless blindness, that ignorance leads to infinite different paths. I took those paths just like many others. I had no reason not to take any path. I had no reason to take one either, but I knew I wanted to somehow flourish, whatever that meant. Whatever flourishing took, whatever it felt like, and resulted in, I wanted it... so I just walked through life. I did different things. I involved myself with bad people. I did pointless things. I didn't think there was any reason not to hurt some people. I didn't think there was any reason not to love some people. There was no reason not to do anything, because there was no reason to do anything. Anything was acceptable. And something that is anything is nothing. And my state of mind deteriorated every step I took. Everything I did was nothing. Every step I took, I was still surrounded in fog. I had no reason to do anything. And so everything I did was nothing. None of my actions could result in anything, and none did. That type of inertia is poisonous. I was absolutely poisoned. Sometimes the pain was unbearable. Sometimes the restlessness felt like it would rip me apart. Sometimes my life made me want to die. I kept chasing something unidentified, I kept running harder and harder, to nowhere.

Sometimes I became involved with others in this state. A few of them made me feel hopeful. I'd follow them anywhere. I followed them anywhere, by their side, faithful. They led me nowhere, and disappeared. Sometimes, they just disappeared. Some of them nearly destroyed me. The ones that hurt me the most didn't necessarily intend to hurt me. They didn't necessarily intend anything. I thought I had loved, truly. It led to cruel ends. Ends that I couldn't handle. I sat up some nights crying, wishing I'd die. I never really attempted suicide, and I never talked about it because people only do that for attention. And, only people who can hope for attention can do those things for attention. I would get no attention. My father would have punished be badly if I ever uttered something like a suicidal thought in his presence, not because he didn't want me to commit suicide, and his punishment was an attempt to stop it. But because he'd realize I wanted attention, and punish me for that weakness. I couldn't talk about wanting to die. Instead, I thought about suicide as a real possibility. "If the pain doesn't go away, if it never gets better, I will always have an option- I will always be able to end it."

Times brought pain too great for me to handle. But what else could I do? I was crushed under the weight of it. And even as I was being crushed, it never let up. More was added on. "How could it be possible? How can this happen? Nothing could be this bad. It's impossible to hurt worse than this." And more came, and I deteriorated further. Anger and pain were the only things I could feel. I felt so much anger and pain that even lacking other feelings, I was still filled with feeling. I hated everything and everyone, and wanted it all to be over, all at the same time. And others hurt me again, in this state. I was like a rabid dog, caged, being poked with sticks by sneering people outside of the cage. I wanted to destroy everything- so I thought. I wouldn't have been able to, given the power. The everything I wanted destroyed was one thing, disguised as everything- myself. I didn't want to destroy all I saw, I wanted that which saw to be destroyed. Not everything I perceived, but my perception.

I don't know when it stopped. It didn't happen right away. It was shown to me, little by little. I'd always had the tools to understand, but I had nothing to understand. Nothing but pointlessness, petty, sneering hatred, ineptitude, pity-seeking failure was shown to me. I didn't accept what I saw, I fled it. I still had nowhere to flee, and was still running in the fog. But then I began to see- to learn. The things didn't come from within. What came from within was my ability to identify and understand. I'd never had anything but failure to see. I understood it, I identified it, but even though I avoided it, there was never anything else for me. I knew nothing else, until it came to me. And when it came to me, I was ready to see it. I recognized it immediately, powerfully, it was a shock.

So much time went by. I spent more hours than I can remember lost in deep thought. The only thing that remains from those hours are the thoughts that I spent them pondering. More time went by. As time went by, I thought more. As I thought more, I learned more. As I learned more, the anger, the pain, the weight decreased. It wasn't that I began to shed the weight off of me... the weight began to fade. Not as if my eyes were closed, and suddenly, I opened them and saw. But as if I was in the thickest fog, as it slowly thinned out, and things around me began to take shape. The shapes were obscure. A lot of them made no sense for the longest time. Some still don't. But they were shapes, nonetheless. They were something, rather than nothing. Rather than pure fog.

There were never many, around me. As a child, I wanted to be surrounded. I wanted family. I wanted the people around me to be my family. I wanted a mother, but I'd never known what it's like to have one. I wanted my father to love me, and to be more tender with me, to talk to me. I wanted my brothers to be that- brothers. I wanted them to want me, to include me. All of their rejection of all of these things started it- the process of me becoming bitter, and loathsome. I began to spend all of my time alone. I began to choose solitude over company, even when it was offered me. I hated the streets for the people on them. I hated the towns for the people in them. I hated the world, because of people. If there was another person, and if they weren't absolutely ideal, then all people were ruined, all of everything was ruined. The whole world, all of life. It took a long time for this idea to disappear. This idea, which made me hate all of everything, and everyone. I would see a picture of some place, some place on Earth, so beautiful, breathtakingly so. Then I'd notice a sign of humanity in the picture, and turn my head in disgust. I wanted humanity to disappear. I wanted a world where only I existed. I was the closed thing to purity that I could hope for. But, I hated myself, too. I only thought myself pure because the thought originated from myself. I knew I was imperfect. And I had a dark cloud of misery over my head at all times, as proof.

So much time has gone by. I don't know if I'll ever forget how it felt to be that child. But if I were still that child, I wouldn't be capable of writing this. If I were still that child, this entry would be full of hatred, despair, and self-loathing. A cry for help, riddled with defense mechanisms of hatred because I knew no one would answer my cry. And I'd begun suspecting it, but I hadn't been able to accept it fully- no one could answer it. But even these realizations, which mean the collapse of everything I ever hoped for, back then, can mean nothing to me. It's not a shock that I can brace myself against- it's not even a shock. It's nothing. It doesn't make me feel a shock, and therefor, there is nothing to brace myself against... those feelings, that weight, it just disappeared. But I know how it disappeared. I know what I learned that made it disappear. And even though I still have a lot to learn, and even though there will always be things to learn, the shapes have never before been so clear. The fog is gone. All that's left is the distance between myself and the horizon which is now visible.

The result is strength. The result of learning, of growing, is strength. But strength so absolute that "strength" is almost wrong. Strength implies struggle, and achievement over an obstacle. The result of learning, of actualization, isn't strength to overcome the obstacles. It reduced the obstacles into something that can no longer be perceived as an obstacle.

I can still hurt. I have been hurt. But only someone who's made me love them, someone I've let in, can hurt me. And even that hurt, that pain, can only go down to a certain point. I am no longer capable of feeling pain past that point. I exist for a reason, and no one other than me can touch that reason. I can love. I can connect with people, and I have. There are those who I love. But I exist for a reason that has nothing to do with anyone but the fountain from which that reason comes- myself. If everything betrays me, if every loved one turns away, if they leave, or betray, it might hurt. But only down to a certain point, and never past that. No pain can destroy me anymore. I can continue to walk. Even if it takes my breath away, if the pain is excruciating, I won't die. The credits won't roll in that moment, it won't be the end. That can no longer end me. I'll always stand up, in the silence of the aftermath... and it will just be time to go home.