Everything I do
Everything I say
Everything I think
Is just a motion.

What is the point?
What is the purpose?

I used to get excited
I used to be sad
I used to enjoy life
But now I am numb
There is no feeling

I scream in frustration
I do not understand!
What has changed?

My life is the same as ever it has been
It is only my view that has changed
And now I wonder
What is the point

What is the point of getting up
What is the point of working hard
What is the point of eating
Or sleeping or talking
What is the point of fighting the monsters
When they always come back

What is the point of my life?
Can someone please tell me my purpose?
Can someone give me a reason to keep going?

I do not want to die.
I want to live again.
Would someone please tell me how?

You watched my reaction to your story.
"I know a boy," I said, and paused.
Your eyebrows lifted. You waited.
"I know a boy in Wisconsin," I said, and faltered again.
I watched a small smile spread slowly over your face.
"Is there more to this story?" you asked me softly.
I stared at the ground, trying hard to hide my smile. "There might be."
You took my hand and I glanced up. There was a knowing smile on your face. And you waited for me to speak again.
"I hope there is," I said, barely above a whisper.
You smiled again and just walked quietly beside me. I think you were waiting for me to say more. But I didn't. Because there was too much to say and I didn't know how to start.
After a bit, you began to tell me more of your stories. But you didn't forget. I could see it in your eyes. Whenever I got quiet, you smiled at me. You told me a bit about Wisconsin. Said you'd been there before. Said it was pretty up north.
I hope you get to meet that boy in Wisconsin someday. He'd like you.