Life Is Worthless

Well in definition only mine. Its hard to live in an existence where you believe life is precious but you hate the fact that you are breathing. How can someone like me exist? Why do I? Am I only to exist in pain, in suffering? I am just fucking lame. I deserve the worst depth of hell, burning in sweet desires of turmoil. Yea, I don't get it. Why I hate life, living so very much. Way to often I make the one I love the most hurt, because I hurt myself....because I have had so much pain I feel as if I cannot breath without it. Yes, I really am pathetic.

A Lonely Life

I have come to realize that even if I am surrounded by People, by Things. You can have people that care and people that hate you. You can have the small things you treasure so close, or piles of items all around. You can have the deepest love of the most precious person ever created and yet...feel so very alone. It can seem like you have so much, but do you really have anything at all? I feel as such. Like I could be fulfilled. Like I could have everything. That I could be satisfied...but it will never happen. I would long for hope in vain. Nothing of it, nothing for it. Its such a sad, pathetic existence. Truly who can save me from sorrows? Alas, no one. It's fine. I know I complain a lot. I suppose more then I have right to, which should be not at all I suppose. Yet here I am, hm. However, I am beginning to feel as if I'll become content in my world of pain and turmoil. Well, what can I say about it? You cannot reassure me. So here I'll sit, on my lonely planet of desert sorrow filled with dry painful sands. Yes, here I'll be.