Existential Crisis

Why Am I Living?

I put my laptop down after I am finished reading a phanfiction. Curled up in a ball on my bed, I start crying.

Why?

 I keep crying, but now it's louder so I bury my face into my pillow.

Why am I here?

I think to myself angrily. I didn't know why I was crying, at first I thought I was just sad, but now my tears have formed into drops of rage.

WHY?!

 I look at myself in the mirror hating everything about the blurry image in front of me and throw my pillow across the room, followed by evey other piece of shit piled up on my bed. I give my last little bit of strength to throw my unpacked bookbag and hit the up-side of my mirror. 

It falls to the ground and shatters, the little pieces of glass scattered across my floor tease me as I am looking at multiple blurry reflections of my hideous misery.

What even am I?

Looking at myself, defeated, I crumple to the ground and continue to cry but not from shards of glass piercing my legs, but because of the emotional war piercing my heart.

Finally I can make out a few of the thoughts swarming around my mind, hitting all my weak spots.

Is this who I am?

I just do what I can to get by?

And for what, so I can eventually die?

Then nothing about me or what I did will matter.

I must have a purpose, otherwise why live?

Then why am I even fucking here?

I stumble over to my bed and finally gather my thoughts to this;

We were created, but why how? What were we made to do, all anyone ever does is try to get through life with good grades, with popularity, a perfect family, college degrees, love, all for what, so we can die and be forgotten? I must be 'living' for some other reason than trying to be prettier or better than I am, I must have a purpose. There must be a purpose of life, a way to live life and accomplish something, but what, how? 

Right now I am sitting on my bed, pondering this and ask 

How do I live life?

No answer, or sign of a purpose, so I dry my tears with a towel, check my reflection in the tiny mirrors on my floor and return to the brain dead zombie everyone is, and continue trying to live my 

useless 

little 

life.

_________________________________________________

I am not suicidal or depressed but every now and then I will break down, and I will feel pain, and I will continually question my existence. But for now I am ok, so goodbye and have fun living.