It's very cold, and I can sometimes find it hard to just move. Hard to just breathe...sometimes I find myself even with a little shortness of breath. I am slowly running to the end of my cord. I stare into nothingness sometimes, and I lose all memory of what I was doing, what I was going to do...what just happened... I'm lost, and I'm alone. Yet I'm conscious, I know where I am, and I am not alone. Both things at once, simply one is reality and one is emotional. Though I guess which one really effects me is either. I'm not pulled between either, but I'm not bound to one. To be honest, I'm tired of living and I don't really have a reason to be here . No purpose in life, and I don't have any promising things. I'm...really pathetic. I'm here, so alone. I'm in alot of pain, and I can't really dodge it. I can't move. I'm too distant, and I don't have any life. I'm repeating the same thing, just different words. And the more I say, the more I want to delete it. Less needs to be said about me. I hate myself...I can't even say a thing anymore... I'm always alone. Every time someone even talks to me, apparently I just bore them or something. I know that I'm a slightly darker personality, and I am short of words. But depending whether or not I'm pretending to be normal, or not. I can pretend, too well, I know how to prepare for anything, and am sadly a very good liar . If I use a fake personality, try to be cheery or even happy, seems to me like more people like that...and actually talk to me. All that proves is that me, the personality I was born with is obviously 'wrong'. I'm not going to change, but I do reach a conclusion that in order to be happy, I have to pretend to be like everyone else. My life, my thoughts, are valueless, and never had value. They will never be seen or heard of. If anything it sounds to me like I'd be something the world would toss away, because I, my life, and everythig attached to it are valueless. Heh... What is love? What is friendship? What is life? What is happiness? I know the answers to these questions, yet the absence of them is what hurts. Maybe if my heart wasn't weighing me down, I'd be fine, but I guess I need some sort of social-ness in my life, or else I will die. Not that I shouldn't, I hate myself anyway. Would do me and the world a favor. If I can keep my mind occupied, I am distracted from the pain. But that in itself is just running. What use is it? The pain is always there, and it's never going away. I can just keep running, and try and survive. My life is still pathetic. And it will only catch up to me, I am so weak, I cannot get away. It's what self-harm is, a distraction. It's what addiction is, to anything, a distraction. What are you running from? What am I running from? Maybe it's reality, maybe it's just not worth living anymore. Sadly I know that the more I type, I feel as if I'm not even here. I've noticed long posts do not get responses very much. Not that I'm asking for everyone to, I'm not asking anyone to. It's not a cry for help, I think I don't really have a reason to post, other then just crying my pain out. I used to cry. I can't anymore. I just sit, lifeless now. Don't you love it that I change subjects so frequently? Nobody probably knows what the hell I'm talking about, yet I know after this, they will say that they do, and I'm like everyone else. Whether or not it be true, I'm not asking for proof, or anything of the sort to say that I am the same. But the way the I feel is that I don't really have any connection. Doesn't matter if I'm the same or not, I'm not here. Guess at this point, it's a little difficult to respond, huh? That's okay. I appreciate anyone who reads this. I hate wasting people's time, but you're doing that by listening to me. You always will be... I'm helpless, and I don't have a life. And I can live my two way life, keep running that long track. There's no getting off of it. Unless you die. Eternal piece, it's a permanent solution. Sometimes a temporary problem isn't temporary. Who's going to fix it? Time? People? What happens when both are non-existant in a person's life? Or maybe you could just say this is a phase. Maybe I'm just another teenager who knows nothing of the world. I'm not angry. And it's understandable if someone thinks that. But it's easy to see, that I'm only immature by tossing out these assumptions at readers, and given they are this far (trying to say I'm not worth reading, not to insult members here) they probably are even a little offended. I'm deeply sorry-I can't communicate. I really can't. The more I try and fix things, I look around, my life is still the same. I'm still alone, and my heart is still broken, I'm still in pain, this blood is still on my hands, my life is still the same empty that it's always been. Is this really a temporary problem? Is it, really, think about it for a moment. Temporary can be a few different lengths of time, but come on, people who have lived with depression for years and years, who can say that's temporary? Depression is our mind's cancer. Sure you can make it, but who's to say that it's always fixable? Maybe death is the more humane way to cure it. Not that I encourage suicide, I'm all against it, to protect others. And I do not intend to violate the rules, and I'm not encouraging suicide, incase I have, I apologize. Who can really say that this is a temporary problem? Who can give us a reason to live? Who's got that magic cure that'll bring us through the storm? Who's going to bring something OTHER then a temporary solution to a permanent problem? No, you don't have to answer. No one does. But I thank you for reading, and I'm sorry for wasting your time with this post.