What am I?
As I search for answers in the void of the unknown I find none of the conclusions I am looking for and begin to feel intolerable.
To myself.
To others.
People stray away from me like I am some sort of disease, yet are still talking about me as if I could never hurt them although we share occupancy within the same room.
I find excuses for their ignorance and continue on my way and I still begin to wonder if every encounter I ever had was in vain because I refused to poison them with my sense of independence.
What am I?
I control substances as well as I control myself. I become unsure on how to stop my self-abuse and it occurs to me that I may just be as ****** up as they say I am.
I may just be a reincarnate of a bundle of people who have ******* up everything they've ever had. I'll never know.
What am I?
As I sit in the darkest corner of the room with my head in my hands I contemplate the truth of the words that spew from other people's mouths like a plague of ***** deemed to destroy those who beg themselves every night to gather the strength to stick around for at least one more day.
What if I told you I was planning what could be the most creative ending yet? Whether my own or another's you'll never know... and I couldn't wait for you to see the star of the latest attraction in Life's circus on display.
I saved you all some oxygen, I hope it's to your liking.
What am I?
Well what have they always told me?
A dead end?
Disappointment?
Failure?
No. Something much worse.
Nothing.
I am nothing.
And we've all tried to make something out of nothing haven't we?
Didn't work very well did it?
Hi, my name is Nothing and this is the last breath you'll ever see me take.

It's three in the morning and instead of sleeping like I should be, I'm wrapped in a towel on my bathroom floor with tears welling in my eyes like a faucet that drips when it's not turned off the entire way. Why was a made this way? Who made me who I am today?
I guess I only have myself to blame; me, my cigarettes, and hair dye that change my personality as the wind changes directions on a stormy day.
Everything is building up like plaque on unbrushed teeth and my head begins to feel heavy from the weight of all the thoughts cascading in all at once like a waterfall designed specifically for the nature of my brain. I am not welcome here anymore, the welcome mat has been swiped from under my feet, the door slammed shut and locked as many times as it possibly can be. I'm not allowed to be omniscient in my own problems, because if I did I would have too much power and even if you're the ruler of the land you still need to go through a congress to get any permission to make any decisions.