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dealt with this. For too long I’ve put up with this festering, ceaseless ache. There was once a time I believed it would leave... It didn't. Death is nothing if not patient. He sat back, biding his time, letting me shred my hands on the ragged edge of despair until there was nothing left of my arms but bone.
    Bravo, Mr. Reaper. You've claimed my flesh. I’m finally ready to fall.
    Nothing is ever good enough. Nothing is ever enough. I'm sick of this. All of it. My days, my nights, my body, my mind. The working, the distracting, the eating and breathing. The struggle to be someone, to do great things. The fucking pressure to do well and succeed, to make something of a someone who by all rights should be a no one... it's too much. I've been failing at it all anyway, so why the fuck am I still here? Have I not witnessed enough of myself and my capabilities to know that I can never change: never win? And if I can't, then what's the point of any of this? What is my fucking goal? What do I think I will find at the end of this wretched life that will possibly make the struggle worthwhile?
    I just... I can't fight forever. If I knew that in the end it would all be worth it, then maybe. But life gives no such promise, and the glimpses I have seen of the future show that the worst is yet to come. Do I really expect there to be peace once I'm old? Not likely. I've seen the lonesome infirmity that comes of old age. I've witnessed the sadness and decay wrought by the hands of time. The only possible upside I can see to being old is that it makes you so miserable you relinquish your desire for life, thus freeing yourself from the fear of death and making it that much easier to kick the bucket. If I am already miserable now, with my strong, youthful body and razor sharp wit, imagine the depths of sorrow that will greet me as those things sicken and fade.
    The underlying purpose of life is to survive. My tendency to fail has finally reached the largest scale-I am no longer capable of even that! Oh, fuck! Oh, woe is me! Sharp sobs rattle my ribs and box my throat, causing my tears to jump and dance. I can't believe this really came! I can't believe I'm actually here: strength lost, resolve depleted, praying for the release of death! How the hell did this happen? How did I get here?
    I don’t think I was this way as a child... no. I was a bright eyed rogue. I was actually happy. Life was good back then, and my dreams were as big as the world around me. I had plans, you see, plans for glory and success. Not only that, but I had faith in my ability to claim them. Everything was so open. I never doubted for a second that I could be great. Doubt didn’t exist... Failure wasn’t an option...
    So when did I start to collapse?
    Middle and high school were fine... if not stupid. Dumb kids doing dumb shit: the world went on. I didn’t particularly like the sacrifices required to fit in-the way people championed the clown and shunned the academic-nor did I enjoy the apelike tendencies that so many shared, but it was easy enough to ignore those things with drugs, so I made it through without too many thorns. More than anything, I was confused. I could tell that things were changing, I just couldn’t really tell in what way. All I knew was that with each passing year, I found on my tongue an increasingly bitter taste.
    Graduation was something of a shock-not because I did it-but because I learned that the vast majority of people I called 'friend' were nothing more than common associates. We all just used each other for parties and drugs. It was amazing how quickly most disappeared when I wasn't forced to see them every day, but that didn't matter. Deep down I always knew we didn't really like each other. The real issue that came about after graduation was that suddenly, the big wide world was busted wide open, and it was time to choose a path, go to college, find a career! The problem: I didn't know who I was. I didn’t have a damn clue how I