The pit I have submerged myself into is seemingly bottemless. I am so uncomfortable in my own skin, I hate breathing. I will never recover from my own misery. According to you and all others', I am zoned into my own delusional, warped self! Am I hurting anyone other than myself ? I don't think so. I have nothing, absolutely nothing in common with anyone, anywhere and I will never fit it. I am alone even in a room filled with others. Their laughter angers me. I turn it inwards and want to die. I hate being me. Constantly questioning why it is I am still alive or if in fact I am. How do you define being alive? Is it the act of breathing and just being? I have no identity, I lost that somewhere way back when. A drink would make it all disappear and the urge is intense. The wall I built decades ago has remained intact. I thought I was removing bricks but for some odd reason I am merely reinforcing it. I doubt that I will ever let down my guard, in fact I know I won't. What's the point of taking up perfectly good breathing room if in fact my life is meaningless?! I let thoughts flood my mind and cause me to question EVERYTHING I thought was genuine in my life. When the dust settles and I am able to see clearly for myself that all I thought I had was merely a mirage. How foolish I feel
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