• I liked to believe that I had a purpose somewhere for something. That maybe there really was a person who needed me there. Maybe there was a place I belonged to once? I had friends and a family. But am I simply just the byproduct of broken dreams and sunken aspirations formed into a phiyscality all their own?

    Why did God make me? A question that plaques almost everyone. So then, why does it seem to come more frequently. People ask me if I'm depressed and if I'm going to kill myself. Somedays I wonder though; it really is just that simple. There are days where it feels like everything has been torn apart from my heart. Then, those days where a new world is dawning.

    I want to continue growing and learning but there are sacrifices I'm unwilling to make. There are choices I can't make for myself because I already know the outcome. If there is in fact a way to make me stay, then why do I doubt my heart? What do I do now?

    I love my job but I hate some people. They won't go away and neither will the problems they cause. It seems like all is dying for me. I'm just tired and stressed every night when I come home. I can't break it and let go of work when I leave.

    My mind is severely analytical beyond comprehension. I'm a problem-solver! They all say... Can I really fix problems? Or merely things that are wrong but not pertaining to an abrupt nature?

    I wish I could just shut up... I really just want to not have a voice anymore. Just a chalk board to write everything on. I could just sit back and listen. I could learn on exponential levels. I don't even know what I just wrote. This stupid brain, it isn't mine anymore. There's something inside of me or somewhere near me. Always harshing my good times. Raining on my parade...

    I could be in Canada right now but something somewhere didn't too much approve of that idea. I couldn't find my birth certificate.The one thing that proved my existence. The one thing besides my body that proved I was a living, breathing consciousness. It's stupid to think like this but; who am I. That little flicket of paper with a fancy insignia made me who I am, not necessarily on a grandeur level, more so, in a sense that it was the beginning of me. The start of Zachary.

    So what do I do now? Do I start over. Is there a second chance or just a replacement of what I lost. Something not quite the same, without my memories but just significant enough for my existence to be, well, true?