The Insignificance

It never ceases to surprise me how much a little thing can make me plummet down. How much it hurts to fall, and to feel the direct or indirect pain. I may choose how to react but many times it is not easy. I can crumble beneath the weight, I can fall to my knees in agony of mental burden and weight. To feel like nothing I do is good enough, to feel like I don’t have worth or value. To feel alone, and those that care are too far to do anything about it, or they simply won’t. The pain of hearts broken, and the agony that it was so easy destroyed. Sometimes, it just is my own fault for giving it out in the first place and my own fault for letting it go. So maybe I am to blame for the problems I have and the problems I have caused, but these are the burdens I bare. I take it in, like the air I breathe and feel the sting of it in my head. It causes me such misery and although I wish I didn’t feel this way, its there gnawing at me with abandoned hunger. It takes me, bit by bit and wraps me back in cold darkness, leaving me to fend for myself. What difference does it make when I struggle and fight for air, only to realize I am going no where but down. Like the drowning victim of thought and depression it suffocates and binds and clings to me like a chain of torment of a soul. Looking back I see my mistakes clearly and remember who I was, maybe that was easier to feel empty and to break the binds of emotion and thought.

Maybe then it was easier to burn with hate and rage and feel nothing but contempt. But that road is too far behind me and there is no turning back. So I sit and wonder what could’ve been, to find what never was, and never will be. Rule 1- accept what I can not change and change what I can. Easier said then done when heart is invested and feeling of emotion is involved. Sometimes I look back and wonder how I ever made it through, or how I made it to the point of the empty and nothing, to the point of nothing at all. Yet when looking ahead I find myself wishing it wouldn’t come. To let it slip and give in to the gift of relieving it all. There is not a way to give in to this because I can not change what is, nor will I give up this ghost. I struggle on, weary and battle worn, I struggle on my personal road to the path of the insignificant. But although I am alone in my struggle it is only me and my mind, it is only me on my road and only my own war to rage on as I face my own struggles to face with the cold. To the road I tread with worn out legs and a tired soul only to continue on. This is the face of a depression that hasn’t forgotten my name among it all. But in the end I will face whatever may come because in it all is my own and no one else, and this is my burden and the insignificance of it all.

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