I have often wondered why it is that I exist, why, even after prolonged pleas to **** me in my sleep – you allow me to wake to a barrage of thoughts.

I don’t really know my purpose for being here. Why all the pain exists. Why I was born to my parents, my own race. I do not know much. Sometimes I feel myself going mad from not knowing anything.

I guess I yearn to know so much because I fear this uncertainty, this lack of safety I’ve always seem to have felt in this world.

I wish I knew. I wish that you would talk to me sometimes. I guess what I wish for is some comfort – that somehow, there is a meaning to this madness, a meaning for my life, a purpose for existing.

I can’t seem to fool myself into believing anything transient for too long. When I cling onto something unreal, unstable – it gets taken away from me, and all I am left with is, nothing. Intense pain soon arises.

Sometimes you know I feel so depressed. So out of touch with you – as Osho would say.

My heart yearns so much to know itself; but it constantly breaks out of confusion and disconnection.