When I measure my worth, I feel like crying; but I don't have the tears to cry.

There are so many things that I'd like to forget. There are so many painful reminders of how things used to be. The absence of having to feel is what I'd give for.

Sadly, it was those very things that have made me more insightful and understanding. The best of me sprung from the worst of me. Furthermore, it was those very things that have forever crippled me in so many ways.

All of this makes me appreciate all the good things, people, and memories I have now. At the same time, a part of me contends and challenges me and my worth. Who are my real friends? What do I mean to them? How do they see me? How do they think of me? How am I? Who am I? What does this all mean?

What I want is to erase all these memories and sentiment I have. I want to fulfill as much to life as if it was soon to run dry. My plight is that nothing broken or damaged inside me can be mended, and that every day seems to accumulate more damages rather than repairing, which outweighs of what is suppose to replace them with new experiences.

I don't need my past and I don't need to be that person. Although that is who I am, that's not what I want to be. How I strive to change...of the masks I wear....of the things I hide....of the illusions I show. I want to be real....I want to be free....I want life....I want the life in which I lack! Of that which was taken away from me! Of that which was deprived from me! Of that which I was cast away and abandoned and shattered!

Like broken glass are the broken pieces of my heart, of my soul, of my very existence, I piece the untouchable, the unbearable, the unlovable, the unrepairable self that befell the sanctities from which it was made and secured. Detested upon creation, it was thrown from what should have been the loving hands of the makers that molded such a piece.

When it comes down to it, no matter how much I've tried to detach that part of me, no matter how much my comfort was challenged or how much it hurt to take the risk, I stood alone. I do not belong here or anywhere. I am forever an outsider looking in, a dreamer with impossible dreams to be a part of something and to mean something. I am weary of living in between worlds, hidden and invisible, while longing for such things that are as vital as the air one breathes and the water in which one drinks!

Broken and torn from worlds, it is the self that dreams that which are unseekable and unreachable, all in which drives me, and yet divides me.

I am tired of the essences of me being isolated and denied its existence! I cannot speak, I cannot act, I cannot just be! I am a wandering vessel, a mere shell, longing to be freed from that which entraps me!

I am denied from the very things that make life, life! It is the years of starvation from living in a world so cold, so dark, so empty that drives such hunger! A hunger that longs for life! A hunger that just blazes inside like battles and wars raging within me!

I want the life in which I lacked! I want to feel life! I want to be alive for once! I hate being dead on the outside and a suffocating heart and soul in the inside!

Instead, I was given life and all its agonizing glories and pains. Isolated and entrapped within the emptiness and thrown visions of life that can never be obtained as if being taunted by fate. What more is the condemnation to ensure that such life shall never be possessed.

I seem to ask so much, but I contend these are the things most people readily have, and for me to obtain them is unnatural and hurts as much as digging through the fire for what I seek. I ask, I try, and fall from the reaching hands that turns their backs from me.

This is the purest of pains from the depths of misery; the absence of living; the cold, dark emptiness; all in which I live in my lonely world of torment day after day for every waking hour and every sleepy moment of my life! And I stand alone...