Why do I need to talk about a thing? How will it help me to talk about things I can't bear to believe myself?



"I try desperately to run through the sand, as I hold the water in the palm of my hand. 'Cause it's all that I have and it's all that I need, and the waves of the water mean nothing to me. So I try my best with all that I can, to hold tightly onto what's left in my hand. But no matter how, how tightly I will strain, the sand will slow me down and the water will drain."

I feel like these threads I've started are irrelevant. Just like all of the "help" I've tried seeking out over these past years. I talk like I've lived a full life and am reaching close to retirement (at the very least). Truth is, I'm in my early twenties and I'm talking like this. Twenty-two and too old, too rundown, too far gone. I promised to stay alive until today. Now my promise has run out. But what's the point in taking it all away? All of that pain is there for a reason, right?

There has to be a reason to put someone through these things. There has to be a reason behind forcing someone to question their own sanity as much as I do. There has to be some kind of reason. Or maybe there's not and I'm a fool for thinking otherwise. When I see myself as an older person (when I dare to think about that awful subject), all I see is pain and regret. Old and dying alone anyway, so why didn't I take myself out before I got to that point? I see someone in agony, still living, not for themselves, but for the people this old soul has promised. Promised they wouldn't have to die after me. That I'd take that pain....

I don't think I can take that pain.