I don’t believe in the future. I’ve spent almost all my life knowing that I’ll never make it there. That one day I’ll finally get the courage to end the time line. I know that no one will miss me anyway. I see all these people who tolerate my existence. After a week they’ll forget I ever existed. I see me parents. Their tense marriage. I’m the reason that tension is there. I ruined their lives with my presence. They would take a month then realize how much money their saving and maybe even fall back in love. They’ll be fine. My old class mates would perhaps like and comment on a face book post about how tragic my inevitable fate was but, that would be all. I know that the world will keep turning without me yet I’ve never pictured the world turning with me still here. I still can’t see a future past this year. I’ve never considered it a possibility. I don’t know what I’m doing because I never thought I’d make it this far. I fear the future that I never planned for more than the oblivion I’ve been avoiding. Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally be courageous enough to end it. If not. Maybe the next day or a month from now because I don’t believe in the future or rather I don’t believe in my future.

I think I’ve forgotten how to fall asleep not sobbing into a pillow. Thinking of all the things I’ve done wrong. I haven’t done anything wrong I am just destined for pain. Sometimes I believe that I have a purpose in life and that’s why I’m still here. I’m beginning to believe that my purpose in life is to be used and thrown aside. My life is not meant to change the world but to be punching bag for the world. Who could love someone like me? No one. That’s my purpose in life to show others they deserve better. I’m a reference point to there happy ever after. And maybe I’m here to die a victum of society to teach others not to be terrible people. Maybe if I just jump I’ll be a martyr for humanity.

Sunshine helps. Sunshine helps on the days I lay around sinking deeper into my depression. The room always seems to be dark on those days. Sunshine helps. It may be a romantic point of view but I find nature soothing. The smell of rain never ceases to make me smile. Sunshine helps. It reminds me of me before depression. Back at camp. Making music. Making friends. I used to smile so much. Sunshine helps. I don’t smile anymore. Not like I used to. It’s more painful to do so now. Sunshine helps. I like to take the longest paths when I’m outside. I like the wind against my face. I like wandering aimlessly. It helps clear my head. Sunshine helps. Some where along the way I started associating you with sunshine. Maybe it was the light in your eyes. Maybe it was your warm smile. But since I’ve met you I’ve realized that things are going to be okay. Sunshine helps and you help me step into the sun.

To the person who only likes me when its convenient. I want to hate you. I want to push you out of my life and scream about how used I feel sometimes. I am a servent ready to please you at a tip of the hat. You ring a bell and I come scampering to you like an animal. When I call. I just keep calling until my voice goes horse. Then you come home drunk and finally want me. I wish I could walk away but there’s something constantly tugging at me every time I try. The constant fear of being alone. Of losing an opportunity to finally feel loved and wanted. So I stay. At your convience of course. When we’re together you give me bliss and soothe my aching heart but when we aren’t we are strangers because who would want to be associated with me? I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to be either.

I think I like you. I see you walk down the hall everyday but you never look my way. You walk with confidence aglow around you. Your aura can control a room because everyone whole heartedly respects you. I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in a long long time. A flash of pinks glows on your cheeks. You look down and deny. I see a pang if hurt behind your eyes. I can tell you’re broken. Or at least you think you are. I’m broken too. Maybe we can pick up the peices together. Maybe next time I insist that you’re beautiful you’ll believe me. Until then I’ll be here. Waiting for you to let me help you.

Life is beautiful. There is so much joy, elation, love, friendship, compassion, and inspiration that comes with the creation of life. Tiny tots so fresh so young love everything and the world throws open its gates to welcome such purity and bright white joy. Little kids transform the world around them into a paradise of wonderful colors. Painting their imagination across the sky. They are whatever they want to be. A rock star, a super hero, a dinosaur hunter, a princess, a knight you name it and I garentie some child already has. Teenagers see the world around them once the colors of child hood have faded. They try to paint them again but only result in jealousy, self doubt, fear, pain, and uncertainty because life certainly hasn’t been like this before. They also are told they can be anything they want to be doctors, lawyers, dropouts, criminals, husbands, and wives they watch as the color fades from view and relise that death is also beautiful.

The prairie lies still for the first time I’ve ever seen. The wheat stands tall stoically soaking up the golden rays. No clouds are seen today. Then the wind so beautiful so kind and gentle apears. I see her across the quilt of amber and gold. She starts to dance gracefully sweeping her way closer. As she leaps the quilt quivers under her feet bowing down to the prima ballerina that transforms the motionless quilt into a sea of amber and light. The wind dances gracefully across her stage of golden waves. As she leaps I catch a glimpse of her eyes. So gentle and beautiful yet deep down inside such fury that burns in her sole with one graceful grand jeté rocks crumble from the sides of mountains. With one pirouette a vortex of mass destruction. With one duet wind and water leave ruble in their wake. I see the raw unforgiving power behind her eyes yet I love the wind as she tenderly caresses my face. I can’t help but to dance with her.