What does it mean to live?Does living mean loving? Does it mean money? Does it mean happiness? Or am I meant to drift through these endless days forever, oblivious to a truth I'm simply too naïve to understand?
I want to be more. Is that too much to ask? I know it's greedy, yet I still pray that one day I can rest knowing that all these years amounted to something. Anything at all.
Every day is the same. I wake up. I go to school. I come home, study, and play video games. That's it. That's all. There's nothing behind it, no meaning, no direction. Nothing at all.
So why don't I change?Why don't I try to be special? Do something good. Play sports. Practice a hobby. Help people.
Why?
Because I'm useless. I spend every day believing things will work out on their own, relying on everyone but myself. And for that, I disgust myself. Still, somehow, I manage to live. I forget. I move on. I keep going.
I want to believe I'm kind. I want to believe I'm a good person. I wear the mask of a "nice" guy, acting morally superior while running from my problems because I don't want to face them. I complain about being bored when I'm the one who makes life empty. I comfort myself with my own words, then distract myself before they can sink in. I've lied to myself so many times that I can't tell when I'm being honest anymore.
I hate it.I hate this.
I judge the hypocrisy of others while knowing the most hypocritical one of all is me. I have parents, parents who love me, parents who want the best for me. And yet, I can't give that love back. Not when I know what they've done. Not when I know how their past was forced onto me. Not when my mother hides a truth I've been aware of for longer than she realizes. Giving back isn't something I can do anymore.
I have friends. I care about them. I want to care about them even more. They're the closest thing I have to something real, to something that feels like a proper connection. And even then, I lie. I pretend I don't need help.
Do I need help?Am I trying to victimize myself right now?Am I still lying?
I don't know what's real anymore. I don't know what's true and what I've convinced myself is true. The only thing I know, the only thing I'm certain of, is that being here isn't enough for me. No matter how much I say it is. No matter how badly I want to believe it is.
I love deeply. I care deeply. I feel too much for someone who does nothing with it. Can someone like that even exist without breaking? Can I ever find something, someone, that makes all of this worth it?
…Is that authentic?