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I'm done.
I've tried and I've tried, and nothing I seem to do makes this any better.
I wonder if this has all been a mistake...
If this was some higher powers cruel way of saying, "Life isn't done kicking you around yet, get back up and amuse me."
I know things could be worse, millions of times worse...
I've seen the news, I've heard the stories.
Be it past or present, it could be worse.
I sometimes wonder if I would be feeling this way if I was dealt the same hand but maybe grew up elsewhere, or as a different ethnicity.
Would the world around, my different self, mould and shape me in a different way? Or would I still be me.
Would I still be lacking, feeling so empty and lost?
There are happy times.
Times when I'm quite jovial, and unhindered by the reality that is my mind and my worries.
I try and try to again, to pick myself up, and say things will get better.
But it seems the only way, for things to get better... to be better, would happen only if I changed.
If I was no longer me.
If the me I am where the me i was meant to be?
Though, is there a me I was meant to be?
A me who wasn't just done.
A me who knew what she was.
A me who could make things better, and be what they wanted her to be...
Is there really such a me?
But I am the me of now, the me who is done.
The me, who doesn't belong and who can't find her way.
I am the one who survived, possibly past my expiration date.
It always leaves me wondering, if I never should have woke up that day many years ago...
It makes me sad, knowing that it didn't just end, there and then...
My heart aches and my eyes water.
Oh how I wish it could have just ended then.
How I wish I didn't have these 'woe is me', thoughts that make me seem worse off then someone else.
I just want acceptance, I want the love of a family.
A love from my parents, that won't make me feel like an unwanted guest in my own home.
Sometimes I have sick thoughts of what it would have been like to grow up in the system.
If my parents had decided to take those who were related to them by blood, and left me behind.
I have perverse thoughts of the broken system.
Would I get a happy home, or a home no child should be a part of.
Would I have been a trouble child, with no hope.
Or would I have rosen to the occasion and blossomed...
My sick sick mind, thinks up these situations.
It leaves tears in my eyes...
I just want it to end.
An end would be nice.
I make myself feel worse and worse, yet it never ends.
I'm never lucky enough.
So I'll just continue on, in my own self pitty parade.
And one day, when it does end... I bet it'll be the day when things have finally come together.
And I'll not want to leave.
But I will, and I won't feel sad, because I'll have deserved it.
I'll always deserve what I don't want, and never what I can't get.
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