Maybe we don't want to die.
Maybe we want to be saved.
Maybe we just don't know how to save ourselves.
Maybe, just maybe, we want to live.
We just don't know how to live.
Some people are fighting to stay alive whilst some people are fighting to die.
It's funny, isn't it?
How some people really want to live whilst others are desperate to die?
I've never understood it.
Maybe it's because I've never been so happy that I've truly wanted to live.
I mean, there's been times where I haven't wanted to fling myself off a bridge, but I've never been so happy that I really wanted to be alive.
I guess that's the sad thing about it all.
I've never truly wanted to live.
Each one of us was brought into the world without been asked.
Some of us live a life that is so beautiful and full of joy, happiness and wonder.
Others live a life that barely feels worth it.
They live a life that has no joy.
What's life without those things?
Without those things, it just feels empty.
How funny it is to be alive and yet not living.
By funny, I mean sad.
It's sad how some people go through life and feel like they have no purpose.
What's life without purpose?
I guess what's really sad is knowing you have no purpose.
Things will still go on without us.
We all know the world would still spin without us.
The moon would still appear at night.
The sun would come out in the day.
The stars would still watch over the Earth at night.
None of us are so important that the universe would seize to function without us.
That's a mixture of sad and scary.
How scary is it to be so insignificant in the scheme of things?
Of course, these are all just my thoughts.
They're only my opinions.
The things that go in and out of my head at random moments.
The things I can rarely put into words.
They rarely have any meaning.
That's also a funny thing.
I know I have none.
There really isn't any meaning to my existence.
I'm not sure there's any of anything to my existence.
I'm still alive though.
Still suffering this hell.
Because that's all life is to me.
Each day that passes is another day I've stuck around to endure this personal hell.
Maybe one day it will be different.
Maybe one day it won't seem like hell.
Maybe I'll learn to live again because I don't think I've gone through a day in the last 15 years and felt alive.
Maybe one day life won't seem like a chore.
Like a daily activity I must do.
Like something forced upon me.
Maybe I'll be happy one day and this will all be but a memory.
Maybe it won't.
Who really knows?
Of course, this is all drunk talk.
Something that should probably be ignored.
It's all poetic and worded nicely.
Not like other thoughts I and others like me have.
The thoughts that we don't talk/write about.
Those thoughts that would destroy the person reading them.
They somehow don't destroy us, though.
Or maybe they do.
Maybe that's why we're like how we are.
Messed up but somehow hiding it.
Or are we hiding it?
It's only a maybe though.