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It's the middle of the night, and yet here I am. Wide awake and online, yet I wish I could sleep, I wish I could dream. No more nightmares, please no more. What are these nightmares? Why are these nightmares tormenting me? Why do I wake up in sweat, in tears, even with pain in my chest. I'm not ill, I have no disease. Am I really taking things over dramatically, to the point I let my mind's will weaken and fool myself into its belief?
What's the point? What's the point on continuing something so pointless? Am I really that afraid? Afraid of something I don't even know myself?
Why am I typing this to begin with? I type what I think, I type what I feel, and yet I type while I cry? Does it even help to type away what makes no sense to me?

My chest continues to feel a sharp pain, my heart continues to pulse. With each pump of blood is a new desire. With each pump of blood is a new meaning. But what desire? What meaning? What purpose is it to go on, if going on only brings more suffering? Why must I suffer?
No, this pain doesn't make me suufer. Not the least. Then what suffering? What suffering is there if I don't suffer? The suffering of others, others I care. Why do I care? I just do. But why? I don't know... I just do.

It's a rare find for me. To find a person I'd actually talk to. A person I'd actually talk to using words. Real words. How many people have I really found in life who I spoke to in real words? How many chances was I given? How many chances did I lose? And how many chances were taken got granted, waiting for the point I'm weak most to push me away. Take away my walking stick, take away what I lean on most. Just push me aside and allow my awaiting. My awaiting of the sound. What sound? The sound of a snap, the snapping of my neck. And yet I live? Why do I live through it? What feels like death isn't death at all? Is confusion really so confusing? Depression in a loss is an issue far more painful than God's Hell? Yes, God's Hell. Death is a fraction of God's Hell. Death is the age out body tires of life and gives out.

No, that is not death. That is not God's Hell. What is God's Hell? What are our Sins? What is it we do to deserve God's Hell? What is God's Hell? Gods Hell... It's what's most painful to everyone. Death isn't Hell. Death is Life. Death is a life of pain. Our body lives on, yet our soul is dead. My body lives on, and yet my soul is dead? Am I really a lost soul? Is that why the pain hurts? Is a dead soul uncapible of going on in a living body? What am I? Am I dead? Am I alive? Am I really God's Sin? What Sin? What did I ever do? Is it because I cared? Because I gave in? Because I've been hurt over and over and over, being stomped into the dirt like the insect under your heavy body? Is my heart an insect to you, God? Am I an insect? Is my soul your insect? Do you choose to crush my soul? To kill it? To make my body suffer?

What is trust? Am I dead because I trust? Am I dead because I'm never trusted? Why is trust such a great deal to me? I trusted. I was trusted. I honored their trust. But did they honor mine? What is honor to me? What is honor to them? What is honor? Is honor to trust someone, to have your trust taken in a grasp and shattered into millions of shards? I hate trust. And yet I continue to trust. Will they shatter what trust I have left? Will one person shatter the last of my trust? Will I trust ever again? I hate trust. And yet I continue to give my trust. I wish not my trust be shattered. I wish not my trust be taken. And if shattered, my trust will still exist? Is trust really immortal in such ways? Beat me, again and again. Continue to beat me, and I'll still stand. But am I really standing? Do you see me standing? What is it to stand? To confront what hurts you? To go against God's Will to throw smite on our soul? To stop our soul's death in a body filled with life?

What are these questions...? Why do I ask these? Is my mind really in a state to where I argue with myself over and over again until I forget everything? do I want to forget everything? Forgeting is too easy. Is it wrong to take the easy way out? Yes, it's wrong. But I can't help it. Those I care for, those I trust, those I can talk to. What's it mean being able to talk to them, if I can't really talk to them? Am I scared? Scared of being hurt again? Having my soul stepped on over and over, not by God, but by those I care for, those I like, those I can talk to and yet not? Is fear what compels our lives? Is it fear that drives us to do what we do?

Is it fear that drives us to suicide? What is suicide? Does suicide even rest the souls of the self massacres? Do I really want to commit suicide? Have I already commited suicide? Do I even look into suicide as an option for me? Am I dead? Am I alive? Is it even possible to kill what's already dead, yet not at the same time?

Get out of my head. Get out of my body. Get out of my heart. Get out of my soul. Get out. And stay out. I don't want anymore fears. I don't want anymore pain. I don't want anymore distrust. No more crying. No more hurting. No more thinking. Stop it all, stop everything.

To everyone who shatters me. To everyone who doesn't care. To everyone who'd cruch my soul when given the chance. Get out of my life. Get away from me. Never come to me again. Never look at me. Never talk about me. Never talk to me. Forget I ever lived. Forget I ever walked. Forget I ever spoke. Don't hurt me. No more will I accept the pain from your depart. No more will I let you walk over me again and agin.

I reserve my heart. I reserve my soul. I reserve my rights as a living being with a living mind to myself. For myself. No more questions. No more answers. No more anything that will only confuse me. No more anything that will throw me into the abyss of my mind. The abyss of my heart. The abyss of my ignorence.

I hate everything. I hate everyone. And yet I continue to care. I continue to love? But why the questioning again? Because I do. I care. I love. And I trust. Crush this trust, if you want. Crush my soul. Crush me. I'll stand, I'll walk, and I'll continue. I'll ignore the causes of pain. I'll ignore your existance. I'll ignore every single thing. Forgetting it all ever happened to begin with. Memories? What memories? I'm not going to waste my life remembering what hurts me.

Edit: Bleh, feel free to ignore. Most of if was just sulk and misery. Still depressed, just not as much.

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