"I'm looking for a way to become
The person that I dreamt of
When I was sixteen"
Do you ever think back to who you dreamt you would become when you grew up? I don't necessarily mean what your dream job was, a firefighter, a princess, whatever, but more what kind of person you dreamt of being. Who did you picture yourself growing up into?
Personally, I didn't dream of being like this. I mean, I must seem ungrateful because I have so much to be proud of and happy for, and I do try to remember those things, but I know that this isn't quite who I hoped I would be. Never had I imagined that I would become a girl bowed down in front of a porcelain bowl. Or a girl who's pain was just exploding out of her.
In all honesty though, I always sort of knew that I would die young. I always had this inkling that I would become very ill or die of suicide. I never imagined that I would fail at it, though.
Since I was little, I've felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. In the darkness and warmth of my bed at night, I would cry for all those suffering in the world; tears would stream down my face for the hungry, the poor, the cold, the people that died in Nazi concentration camps, the lost, refugees, the victims of genocide... At a very young age, I was aware of how painful the world is and I would just cry for all of those who couldn't.
But I never dreamt of the day where I would be too drained to go to school. Of the day where the pain overwhelmed me and I had to seek help. Of the day that I leaned against others for strength. In my most perfect dreams of myself, I would be the one who saved the world. Naive? Yes. But hopeful, idealistic, wishful? Always.
Now, I've lost all faith. Not only do I not believe that the world is capable of changing, not only am I cynical and jaded and tired, I also feel as though I will never make it somewhere worth being. I plow through each day as best I can, but, more often than not, I'm not quite sure why. My brain is a hyper-rational place to be, and it is just incapable of understanding what the purpose of this is. To go to heaven? I've stopped believing that a long time ago and I wouldn't want to spend eternity anywhere anyways. To transmit our genes for the continuation of the species? I have no intention of bringing children into this world. And, either way, we are such insignificant specks in all the ever-expanding vastness. I've been told that this view is called nihilism. Perhaps.
But then, on the other hand, I get anxious over the smallest things. If everything is insignificant and has no purpose or meaning, these specks of nothing should not give me anxiety, correct? But they do. So I am just left feeling more confused than ever.
All I know is that I feel terribly disappointed in myself, always. I aspired to be so much more than I am now or that I ever will be. The years at which I hit my "prime", at which life was at its peak, were from the age of 16 to 18. Now, they're over. Which is what I've told everyone with regards to my attempt at ending my life; if I reached my peak and it's only downhill from here, what exactly is the point of carrying on?
But now, if I was not even able to end this life, what does that say about me? Not only do I fail at living, but I even fail at dying, which is essentially all anyone is doing anyways. Basically, I failed at the only absolute thing that is inherent to all living things. Dying. So where does that leave me
All my love,