I don't know how to start this post. I'm confused, and from my confusion falls all else. I can't remember the last time I've felt anything but pain. There's a rock far, far out in ocean. On this rock you will see me. If you look close enough, hard enough, you will see that I don't sit or stand on this rock. I'm clutching it. Its surface is smooth, but if you look harder still you will see where I've tried to climb it. The small holes where my fingers once found purchase are now smooth, worn away. The will I once had to chip away new ones is gone. My sense of defiance, my anger, at a world that seems to scream at me with silence, once fueled me, but doesn't any longer. I can feel my hold slipping. I want it to slip. I want to drift on those waters, feel the oblivion enter me and undo all of the hurt. But I can't. I have a daughter. But what can I provide to her? A broken father? A heartless beast that carries nothing but death in his heart? What kind of life can I provide when I want to give up my own? My only fear is that I've passed on whatever wretched genetics make me this way, and if I leave, who will understand her?