That1Cellist

I’m late, but here you go anyway.

Tired. That’s the emotion. That’s all that’s left; being tired. Tired of living. Tired of thinking, and making choices. Tired of ruining what you try to fix. Tired of saying the same words, crying the same tears, dreaming the same dreams. Tired of the lies you are told, and the lies you tell yourself. A thousand tears you cry, and they change nothing. A thousand tears won’t fix what’s broken inside you. A thousand tears won’t make the world care. So a thousand tears hide, unshed. A thousand tears, forgotten and ignored. 

Nothing, nothing. Oblivion. Being gone. What could be better? For if you can’t change the words you say, the things you feel, what is the point? Why do we try? It is the blessing, or the curse, of being human. To feel. Why, why, must we be cursed with such a thing as love? Love makes people fight. Love is something we cannot seem to understand. Because love lets others care. No matter how much you fail, no matter how much you hurt them, there are people who, against all logic, will continue loving you. 

Death will not fix it. 

Life will not stop it.

We can only run for so long.

We can’t hide in false worlds forever.

If today were your last day alive, how would you live it? Who would you be leaving behind? Is the unknown really so much better than this life? The pain ends. The darkness leaves. You can find the moments of joy, and treasure them like the gems they are. Hold on through the bad, and savor the good. It is there. You can create it. You can find it. 

My words may change nothing. Words rarely have the effect we want. But death will not fix a heart. Death will not bring what you desire. “I don’t know just how, but it’s not over till you’ve one. When you see the storm is coming, see the lightning part the skies, it’s too late to run, there’s terror in your eyes. What you do then is remember this old thing you’ve hear me say: it’s the storm not you, that’s bound to blow away. Hold on, hold on to someone standing by. Hold on. Don’t even ask how long or why. Child hold on to what you know is true. Hold on till you get through. Child oh child. Hold on!”

—Hold On, the secret garden. 

I don’t mean to get too deep or long or depressing (although I already have), but I’ve had these thoughts, these feelings, and death won’t help.

You’re a great human, feel free to ignore me I’m probably just making things worse. Bye!

Thank you @Aes Sedai. I would like to respond with my own thoughts, but I am out of words it seems.

I will come back to this and read it again, as your words have moved me greatly. Thank you.

Of course, I’m glad I could help.