So I've been thinking. Why am I here? I was the product of a loving couple and put my mom through much pain during childbirth. That's how I got here, but why am I here? I wasn't planned. Everyone's supposed to find their purpose in life but the one purpose I always gave myself, it's not needed. I decided I was here to make people happy. Well people are happy, and I know there is that one person that when they see me their day is better but I don't know who. Sometimes it doesn't seem like there is a person that waits to talk to me everyday. I don't feel like I'm special to someone, not like I want to be special. I used to have so much more potential. I was a pianist at one point, a great one too. Never needed my music after three songs because it was all in my head. Then I'd sight read everything, unless it was a complex song I didn't make one mistake. Now I can barely read music. I was a drummer too. Not full set but mostly snare drum. I was learning to play the full set, but I threw that out the window too. I could still drum, but I don't know how to play a set. I can only play one thing at a time. But even if I had those abilities, I don't see why I'm still here. People make me happy, but they make me just as sad. The same things in life that always bring me joy, they brought despair when I was without it. I'm never going to be content for more than a minute. My optimism is failing me, I'd just ignore the negative and focus on the positive. But optimism is just as bad as cynicism. Being a realist is no better. Just everything that's wrong is going to appear right. But I'm the type of guy that can get close as fuck to a person and talk to them everyday, but I'm why they talk to me. I don't think I'd be as busy on facebook if I shut up for a bit and let them start talking to me. We'd just drift apart and I'd be forgotten. I'd be some loose memory that in ten years when that person thinks of me they'll just think , "Oh I wonder what happened to him and his life". My family is no better. If I committed suicide over the weekend no one would realize I was dead until the start of the week when I have school and I'm not ready to go. The temptation to just kill myself so that I don't have to deal with the pain of existing is too great with all the opportunities I have. My dad has been in and out of the hospital so much that he needs a bag for his medication. My parents trust me enough that I keep a set of throwing knifes, a pocket knife, and a bowie knife in my room. I have a ceiling fan. I could turn almost everything in my room into a way to die. So again the question is posed, why am I still here? I have no real purpose. I don't know why I want to live, but I don't know why I want to die. There's obvious stuff like there's those that I care for and would be devastated if I were gone. But, there's something deeper or else I wouldn't even be thinking of it again. Yeah, again.
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