My purpose for being here
Everybody keeps saying that everyone has a purpose being here, being born, living on this Earth. And everybody says there everyone's unique, and special in their own way. And this is also the lie that I use to decieve myself, again and again.
Perhaps there are some people on Earth that are never meant to be loved, no matter what they do. They don't matter to the people around them, and nobody will give a damn about them. They can be hurt, and left to bled to death, because nobody bothers.
These damned space fillers of the universe. Perhaps I was born one of them.
No matter how good I think myself to be, I will never be considered good enough. I try to learn to do more things, then perhaps I may find something that I am talented in, naturally good at. But I can't.
When I first learnt the piano, I thought I was at least good. I was proud of myself for getting a pass in the exams, or maybe a merit. But everybody else were getting distinctions.
And this is just one example.
There will always be someone else around me that makes me look so lousy. Always. And so nobody has ever taken one look at me, and I have never meant the world to anyone at all. Perhaps not even my parents.
Even when I ask my parents, 'In what way am I special? What do you think when I'm good at?' They couldn't answer my question. They stood there, thought for a moment, then walked away.
I am such a disappointment, even to my parents.
Since young, I've always been left alone. I have friends, but they were never always with me. The countless tears I've shed... they were all out of fear of being alone... The eternal longing to belong somewhere, to someone... The desire to be shielded...
Then when I had someone I could trust in, I was hurt by that person. Broken.
I walk on the roads by myself, carrying my own burdens. I turn around and I see groups of people, so happy being with the people who care for them. And I look at myself, all alone.
Maybe this is the life I am born into. A life of solitude and depression. Not belonging anywhere. Not worth anything.
Perhaps there are some people on Earth that are never meant to be loved, no matter what they do. They don't matter to the people around them, and nobody will give a damn about them. They can be hurt, and left to bled to death, because nobody bothers.
These damned space fillers of the universe. Perhaps I was born one of them.
No matter how good I think myself to be, I will never be considered good enough. I try to learn to do more things, then perhaps I may find something that I am talented in, naturally good at. But I can't.
When I first learnt the piano, I thought I was at least good. I was proud of myself for getting a pass in the exams, or maybe a merit. But everybody else were getting distinctions.
And this is just one example.
There will always be someone else around me that makes me look so lousy. Always. And so nobody has ever taken one look at me, and I have never meant the world to anyone at all. Perhaps not even my parents.
Even when I ask my parents, 'In what way am I special? What do you think when I'm good at?' They couldn't answer my question. They stood there, thought for a moment, then walked away.
I am such a disappointment, even to my parents.
Since young, I've always been left alone. I have friends, but they were never always with me. The countless tears I've shed... they were all out of fear of being alone... The eternal longing to belong somewhere, to someone... The desire to be shielded...
Then when I had someone I could trust in, I was hurt by that person. Broken.
I walk on the roads by myself, carrying my own burdens. I turn around and I see groups of people, so happy being with the people who care for them. And I look at myself, all alone.
Maybe this is the life I am born into. A life of solitude and depression. Not belonging anywhere. Not worth anything.
