I stared out the window, my mind a blank slate, wondering about the meaning of my life. Suddenly, a thought struck me: how could my head be so empty? But before I could grasp it, my mind was flooded with questions. What is the meaning of life if we all die anyway? Maybe I’d be better off sooner rather than later, joining my grandparents, and my dog—anything seemed better than this void.
But then I thought about the people I’d leave behind. Wouldn’t they feel the same emptiness that haunted me? The thought terrified me—how had I become so numb, so detached? It felt like I was two people: one desperate to escape this world, away from the darkness and pain, and the other clinging to life for the sake of those I loved.
The darkness swallowed me whole, blurring the line between who I was and what I had become. Was I even a person anymore, or just a shell moving through life? I didn’t want to be here, trapped in this pain, alone with my emptiness—something no one else could ever understand. It was just me, alone, battling my mind.
If I chose to leave, to join my grandparents and dog, I’d be called selfish. So I stayed—not for me, but for everyone else. But then, a dangerous thought crept in: am I just here to please others? Who could blame me for feeling this way when no one knew? The pain only deepened, and soon the scars began to spread—not just inside, but on my body. It was the only way to release the pain, if only for a moment. But the relief was fleeting, and the darkness returned, a black hole that no one could heal.
I finally found an answer, but it didn’t change anything. I’m still alone, still trapped in this misery that no one can understand, no matter how much I try to explain. The people who should help are too busy, and those who want to help don’t understand. How do I tell them that I’m not living for myself, but for them? How do I explain that I don’t get it, that I take everything personally when I shouldn’t? How do I stop feeling like I’m failing at being normal, at setting goals and finishing them? When will it be enough for me to stop pretending, to end it all without thinking about everyone else’s wishes?
