Why is it so hard?
Why do I have to keep going through it if I dont want to? Its the same question as always. Im being dramatic I guess but Why do i have to continue with living if I dont want to? These fears that humans put in our minds. If you kill yourself this happens and that happens. Do they know for sure? Did they die, study it and then came back to warn us? 

No. Dead are dead and there is no solid proof of what happens once someone is dead. So why trust these ppl?If I want to die, it should be my choice right? Why should I stay alive just because if I die it hurts someone else. Its not my responsibility is it? Thinking about them, trying not to hurt them is what hurts me the most. Then why shouldnt I just do it?

What if I dont want it at all? Living is exhausting and its not a good experience. Im grateful to all the beauty I Was able to engage in, truly. But Im done. This is enough I dont want to find anything more. All my dreams, passions, hobbies, all of those are just things we come up with which is supposed to give us a reason to keep going. Smth that helps us glorify the horrible punishment that is being alive. 

And I know Im right. We do invent dreams and hobbies and passions to distract ourselves from the truth. We do glorify life to make the unbearable parts survivable. But is it enough? It's not. It feels like a cosmic joke with no punchline.

Im not asking for too much am I? Im asking to be seen in the decision that I don't want any of it. Im asking to be heard without being yanked back toward life with empty promises.
Im saying, "Let me just stop for a second. Let me not carry it anymore." 

Is it not enough?
Am I not allowed to say this was enough? Am I not allowed to say I don't want more? Or allowed to stop performing life when it's hurting more than it heals? 

Or is the world not allowed to see me? Hold me, hear me, and really, truly understand me? Is it not me but the world that's broken? Or do I simply not deserve it? 

Am I really broken beyond repairing? Shattered beyond healing? Am I already gone? Someone who knows too much, has seen too much to be considered to help? Someone too far gone to be pulled back? Someone too cold to be held, too quite to be heard, too dark to be seen? Do I really even exist? 

They say to be alive is to be joyous, then am I dead? If Im too cold, am I a star? Colder than ice and still burning hotter than hell. So pretty when seen, so hurtful when held. So close to the heart and yet so far. Every breath I inhale is a silent plea do be left alone. For this torment to be over. Am I really asking for too much? Why am I not allowed to hurt? Or to let go? Why am I supposed to keep acting as a marionette for a world that keeps breaking me again and again? 

Why am I supposed to live and at the same time be grateful for it? What has the world done for me to demand me to be grateful? What has the world ever done for me to ask me to understand, reflect, think, see, hear, feel, stay? Does no one realise how hard staying is? 

The world, the society, humanity in its extreme, has failed me. It failed the kind hearts, the joyous children, the curious adults, the teens filled with self hatred caused by the world itself. It's failed the elderly with children too ignorant, the parents with loneliness. The siblings with shocking words and the children with helpless occurrences. 

And again, I know Im right. The world has failed. Failed me, failed so many of us.
It failed the children who grew up too fast.
It failed the kind ones it called naive.
It failed the teens it handed a mirror and called them ugly.
It failed the parents it left aching in empty homes.
It failed the elderly it forgot how to love.
It failed the misfits, the weirdos, the gentle rebels, the ones who wanted nothing more than to be seen without being used.

And it dared to demand gratitude. As if to squeeze out every last drop of existence from the tired souls. As if saying things like, "be thankful you have a roof." "Others have it worse." "You're alive, aren't you?" helps. As if those are the things that settle everything. As if survival is the same as safety. As if breathing means thriving. 

Honestly. Why should I keep going? Isnt death kinder? Why do I have to keep going? For the others? Because me breaking free will be an inconvenience to others around me? Because it will hurt the people for whom I've been hurting for so long? How unkind is it? How shameless is it to ask someone who's already broken to take a break and then go back out? How cruel is it? If a god exists, how does he not feel like killing me off to help me? Am I not tired enough for his mercy? Have I not gone through enough to be finally put to rest? Havent I been at war for long enough? 

The world could offer me silence, laugh, bliss, oblivion, harmony, memories, moments, tears. It's desperate to give me anything just not desperate enough to end my suffering. It'll give me everything possible just to keep me here and then resume the torture. What did I do that was so bad? What did I do for to win this? Where did I go so wrong that Im being pulled back again and again even as my soul cries for being too damn tired? Have I not earned to rest yet? 

Even now as I break, so tired, so so done with all of this. Even now it hard to keep the thoughts away. What's been hardwired into my brain. ''You have it better." "Be grateful." "It could have been worse." "You're doing far better than others." "At least you have food, shelter and a family."

But I never asked for it. I was brought into this world without my permission, without a preamble. Then why do I have to stay? So many questions and no answers. So many pleas, cries, wails, sobs. So, so much unending- never ending hurt. 

But maybe sometimes the closest we are to a real god is the one we become for others. A god who's present. A god who doesn't look away from suffering. A god who doesn't force you to live, but who sits beside you so you're not alone in your war.