i struggle throughout the day to find any semblance of hope or kindness that can show moving forward at all is worth the time, effort, pain, and grind to simply exist

i tremble at the most nuanced implications; i become cold, and my skin aches with sheer terror over being alive, striving to comprehend between each sunrise and sunset why the desolation hasnt taken me as of yet

and then the plot comes, and i break

each and every time i begin to feel the tangible sensation of worthlessness and hopelessness i cry; alone, harboring diligent conviction for everything i wish i could do

the actualization of mortality is an ever-present ghost haunting me where i rest, where i sleep, where i walk among the growing crowd of grey, listless faces. it overcomes my efforts, it drowns me in subjugating thoughts, flights of fantasy for the dream to give something meaningful; to drive change in a place, for things and people, that could bring goodness or kindness to them too; to deliver unto my own being a sense of purpose and meaningfulness that surpasses the mass mediocrity which suffocates this world and transcends my own hope to do good unto the world at large into something more powerful than words, or wishes, or dreams

i become overwhelmed with the cost of being alive, the choking sensation of doubt which derives through strife and worry for all things monetary which beguile any path towards meaningful philanthropy

in this world, only the rich can afford to live or be free of worry, and i wasn't designed for this world to begin with; i wasn't meant to be, literally, and yet i wasn't given chance or love to find the means for myself before the miring angst and pain which stifled me had made me succumb to it, as such

every choice begets a driving fear which cripples any means to move forward

i have been behind in everything, from everyone, for so long that it becomes painful to even think to wake another day, and the sombre grasp of reality that what given chance or hope or intent i could ever have for others, let alone this world, come crumbling down in an avalanche of susceptibility, vulnerability, and agonizing defeat - i wish nothing more, in those moments, to end my life

nothing and nobody would miss me so that it would hinder their efforts - there could be zero affect in the long run, something which i find peace in knowing: at least it wouldn't be of any loss to the grand scheme, or the short run

i would leave, as i was meant to never be to begin with