What happens when your life is messed up past the point of no return? I'm homeless, I am posting from a public library. I'm a convicted felon with no job skills, my family won't even look at me. Everything I ever try fails. Literally. No exaggeration. The longer I live, the steadily worse my life gets. If I had died when I was 17, when I first had these feelings, I would never have seen my college career go down the toilet. I would never known what a year in jail is like. I'd never have known what it's like living at a Rescue Mission. I'd never have had to watch my home, my job, my car, my self-respect, or my will to live go one by one. I'm at the bottom and there's no way up. All I see are obsticals. All I hear are social workers telling me what I can't do. Is this the life I'm destined to live? If so, I want out. I don't want to die. Yesterday I watched a few little sparrows while I sat on a park bench. They were so cute and full of life. I felt something inside that I've almost forgotten how to feel, I think it was enjoyment. There are things about this world I love. I don't want to die. But I feel like it's the best option left.