Today I realized that if I was a character in a book or TV show I wouldn’t even like that character. Having been in a rut since 2014 with so much chaos between then and now I don’t even have much hope for the future. Amidst my psychological, physical, and social downward spiral I feel like I have shed my skin and am now walking around as a scathing wound on the world and a constant reminder to those that care about me of both mine and their failures.

I feel like I’m only living for the sake of others. I don’t have the means to pull myself up and no one seems to care if I do or not. I had dreams once but now that dream is dead. I can’t for the life of me acknowledge any kind of hope that a path will open up to achieve even a mote of recognition from any of the fields I had wanted to pursue.

I ask myself why go on? And the only answer I can come up with is that I would be missed and that in my absence others would quickly follow. It is the fear that I would be a catalyst to a much greater downward spiral that would inevitably be the cause of massive amounts of pain and anguish if not death of those that “need” me.

I live so that others may live. I exist to provide security and comfort to others. I exist and that is all.