Basically Poetry

Heres the thing

Here's the thing.
I never knew what a good life looked like, I just hope and prayed I would know when I got there.
I held on to this belief in the darkest of nights I faced. This belief cloaked me and kept me safe in childish naivety that someday things would get better. This belief held me back when my tears stained my pillowcase and the childish hands that fumbled with razor blades in those same dark nights. It's this belief that warmed me on nights when I slept in the woods and then eventually in my car. This belief that has led me to, at 20 years old and still waiting for someone to pick me up and hold me. Waiting for some sign because this suffering must be met with an answer, an opposite to this pain I deserve joy, a life of meaning. My pain must mean something. I was beaten for a reason. There must be something on the other side. But there isn't. There's no apology, there's no answer to my cries. There's no guardian angel. What do I hold on to when I have found that there is nothing. There is nothing in this world for me. So I must make sure there's no one else in the world like me... I will find a purpose in not having one. Because I will make my life have meaning, I will give myself the answer. I will pick myself up. I will turn around and hold myself each and everytime. I have always been there for myself. I will be there for them too. How do I become what I have been searching for? Is that the answer in its self?