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I haven't done this in some time.


I've been thinking more and more lately.
So much so, it's been drowning me in a mild bit of... depression...
What am I really here to do on this planet?
Why was I given these challenges to face?
What the hell am I going to do about my future?
Who the hell am I?

These questions. All of them. They're always on my mind. I feel as though, even though time passes and I forget the questions were ever there, they're still sitting, fermenting, in the back of my head. They'll never truly be gone until I've finally come to peace with the world. And that... That will not be anytime soon.

I've come to realize that, no matter how hard I try, I've probably hit the height of my life now. The more I think about this being the limit to me being, the more my body aches every morning when I wake up, the more the coffee tastes more bitter ever day, The longer the drive feels into work, the more pain I feel from every little thing.
And I'm so good at hiding it. I'm so good at pretending that everything is okay. I'm so ******** fantastic at lieing to myself and to my friends and family.

And why do I do it...? Why do I keep all these negative things locked inside? Am I truly just afraid, or is there something more? What's wrong with me?
I want to open up to people. I want to tell the world why I hurt inside. In the end, once someone opens up to listen, I've already forgotten what's hurt me in the first place.
I feel so lost and alone. I feel like nothing matters anymore. Nothing. Not even the furry fandom. None of my friends. Not my Family. Nothing.
I feel like I was just some kind of drawing on a chalkboard all my life. The chalk sat around, forever engraved onto the slate. Then, one day, it began to flake off, like old dust. Over time, the dust just fell to the floor and collected to suddenly one day be blown away by a stray wind, scattered over the room until you couldn't find the particles anymore. They've just dissipated.

I just want to find somewhere where I can feel love like something out of a story; This magical sensation that everyone else seems to have. I don't want lies and backstabbing. I just want someone to love me like I love; Truthful, dedicated, and heartfelt. I thought I had that. I thought I had that countless times. I thought I was in love. I thought I was right. And in the end... they all ended up the same. They all stab and hurt me. They cut a little piece of me for themselves and run away, slicing through every last bit of innocence and happiness I have. And I'm left there, no one around to help me. Just sitting alone.

And maybe that's how I feel now. Maybe that's what explains my super-high impenetrable defenses. I don't want to let anybody in. I don't want to put faith in someone and have it snapped back in my face again. I think, honestly, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of people. I hate them. Others cause so much pain to others. Why can't this world honestly see the pain and strife in others.

Someday, I'll understand this world for what it is. I'll find love. I'll find my peace. And I'll finally be able to die, knowing I did something for the world.