Empty Living

Why Bother?

     Why do I bother? Living is so painful, so why bother?

     Sometimes I really don't know myself. I feel so aimless at times. I fantasize so much of what "could" be, what I wish for things to be like in the years to come. Even with such vivid visions I still come to struggle when hit with something substantial enough. Whether it's the crippling pressures of my academic and work life, the debilitating abuse of my parents, my endless dreams which have yet to come true, or even my own confused teeny self, it all makes seeing those visions come to reality an even more improbable possibility.

     I despise those things, I really, really do. I've been close to ending it a couple times, and it infuriates me that I've recently become more and more emotionally charged. I don't completely know what's caused this change and it's really quite vexing, all I know is that there is no way I'm leaving this world just yet. All the times I've lost my mind into the void of suffering I've always managed to bring myself back into a more reasonable state, but I wonder if I'll be able to do that for much longer. I find it dangerous to have too much time because that's when I'm the most susceptible and vulnerable to my own thoughts and feelings. 

     Even diamonds have breaking points, and I think I've been testing mine all too often. Perhaps it'd be better to simply perish than to face that kind of collapse, for me anyway. Putting meaning into who I am and what I do is crucial when it comes to preserving myself. I ask myself what the consequences of my actions would be. Would my parents crumble and leave my brother to face the fallout? Would my friends lose hope in themselves when someone they would idolize comes crashing down? If there were people who needed me, how would they cope if they lost someone who was their pillar? Whether any of those consequences would come to be, I don't know, maybe it's just me fantasizing that I have any importance to other people. But it's possible, and that's what matters.

     I don't think that I could live if it was just for myself because there simply isn't enough there for me to concern myself with, so that's why I must consider the lives of others too. What if my family was to fall apart because I died? What if someone never finds their true love because it was me? What if someone truly needed me in their life but I just wasn't there? I suppose one could say that my reason for living is to be there for others, whatever the reason is. Giving myself that feeling of "need" is what compels me to stay stalwart through the trials of life, after all, I only get this one chance.

     That's why I bother.