It’s so exhausting existing like this. Every day just another 24 hours. The alarm clock goes off and the mind instantly tries to find reasons to get up.When none are found, you are already awake and cant fall back asleep.You do your routine, whatever that should be. Go to work, stay at home, none the less it’s all the same. It’s just 24 hours on a loop, your whole existence is a loop. Some days are different, some better, some worse, but all in all its a shitload of grey, boring, never ending days, where your mind seeks the darkest corners, makes up anxieties out of thin air, and turns hope and blissful memories into dust. It’s boring, it’s exhausting, it’s painful and mostly it is pointless. Why am I here, when I could be out there living my life. I’d like to think that somewhere in an altered universe another me is out there drinking Pina coladas at noon by the beach, dancing around in the streets with a big smile spread onto her face, singing out loud in the metro, living her best life, living mine. Somehow she’s managed to find a job she looks forward to every morning, something to be passionate about, something or even someone who makes her feel like she’s more than enough and whatever she wishes to do she shall. But this version of me, the only one I know is stuck here, wondering what point there is in existing when you are not existing as you wish. When you can not be let to decide your future, not even your present, and your past isn’t yours nor was it ever. What point is there in existing, when you only wish to exist once the music is turned up loud enough to drown out the voices in your mind, voices that sound an awful lot like your parents, or when you’re wasted drunk to the point you finally forget that you are not someone to be proud of, that you simply are, and simply being is not enough, even if it is the single hardest thing I have ever experienced. What is the point of existing? And if you can’t find one, is there really any? What is the point of putting yourself through that pain, all that misery. Setting yourself up for failure, grasping onto hope, knowing damn well its only gonna leave you crying into your pillow yet another night. What is the point of being, if you don’t want to be. If being is so disappointing, painful and heartbreaking each and every day, is there a point? Do you hold on, for your parents who don’t want you as you are, but as they are? Do you hold on for the friends, who want you not when you’re truly you, you with all your sadness, but when you are the you that cheers them on, to the point they forget what sadness feels like, whilst you drown in a sea of your own tears? Do you hold on for you, the you, you truly are. Who you have learned is not enough nor ever will be; unless you become someone else, someone more like them? Or do you simply just let go. Do you simply do the hardest thing of all, that makes everything else that comes after easier? Do you give in, let their fatal ruling of your character define your future, or rather the lack of it? Do you let go of them or yourself? Or do you simply let go of both? Maybe it is time to sleep into eternity, and next life around, things will be different. Maybe, Maybe not; but I’ve got hope.
If not for me, for all the alternate universe versions of me out there, living the life I could only ever dream off, living the life I wish for all the ones I love, even the ones who never loved me back.