all those rage, and i'm still here?

thirty

TW: mentions of death, existential crisis, depression.

"What is your purpose?"

I find myself lost in thought once again, wondering the purpose of my existence once more.

My life had been nothing but a continuous roller coaster of intense emotions that I bottled up and exploded once I had enough. I had more suffering than I ever had any achievement. I had been constantly enveloped in extreme melancholy and had never, never once, made something good out of my life.

I had been through endless traumas, and I had to bear with the aftermath as such. I was more damaged than I could have ever thought of. I was dysfunctional and complex, and I lived through constant depression.

Once I tried to break free from the cycle, I found myself chained to the unfortunate destiny I had always faced. Once I try to change, I go back to old habits. Self-sabotage was merely my forte. I am certain there is nothing I can do. I am merely a horrible, stagnant, selfish, and pathetic human being.

Some days I become sure that there's hope for tomorrow. I'd somehow be released from this torture, yet I found myself drowning through many issues, conscious or unconscious ones, I have in myself.

You know, I think it's quite unfair. It's not that other people have it easy. It's just that they're all so bold and fearless that they seem to merely surpass the obstacles in their lives effortlessly.

They say that your battles are only supposed to make you strong, so you could develop a thick skin to face reality with pride and courage, but I'm only left traumatized, trembling with nothing but fear, and all my developing traumas come to me at once, probably off to kill me.

I despise the fact that I'm so damaged beyond repair. I feel like I just have to live so people can have someone they don't want to be. I feel like I'm only here because I'm unfortunate, and I deserve all the bad luck that has been passed upon me.

I feel like I lacked a voice, confidence, mental stability, fortitude, positivity, resilience, and all of what makes one person wonderful. I feel like I'm created to be the exact opposite. Unworthy, unlovable, undesirable, worthless, and pathetic. I was the biggest loser I knew, and I only got worse as time passed by. Whenever I thought I was beginning to feel better and to be better, I was once again reminded of my place.

That I am merely nothing, and my purpose—what would it be? To become my most broken, stupidest, and damaged self? Is that it? I feel like I'm never going to be good enough. I feel like I somehow created my pit of depression and the darkness I thought I finally escaped. I come back to it with a snap of a finger.

Truthfully, I have gotten so tired. I feel tired of being myself. I could only pray that this weight would be lifted from my whole system. I could hope for a bit more, and maybe I could believe a bit more. I am exhausted.

Asking for a rest wouldn't be too much, would it?

After all, the mere purpose of my existence is most probably to become the embodiment of failure myself.