Life is so full. Full of things and actions and questions and answers and life and color and music and beautiful beautiful things and people. But there are also ugly things. It was all fun and games until my imbalanced brain woke up and realized it could think. All downhill from there. There is still the beauty I long to experience. Each unique wave on each shore, the sunrise and sunset, sun showers and rainstorms and deafening thunder and blitzing lightning. Things growing, things dying. New life and old life watching the color infuse each day. New creatures and old, flying and digging and climbing about. First Snowfall of each year. I never saw snow till I was 16 and a half. It’s so wonderful, delightful, gorgeous, delectable! I love to drink in the world in the scattered good moments I manage to find. Love and friends. Birth and growth. I’m not meant for it though. Because I cannot find my place, I cannot find the joy I’m supposed to in life. My brain sees only hate hate dark negative bad sad angry upset. Death, barren, coldness, dark, evil, malicious things. It refuses to acknowledge the good. Because though I know it is there, I simply could never find such energy or joy or happiness or sunshine within my body. I’ve racked my brain, my existence for a drop of hope. Just one. A forgotten vial in the cabinet of my energy, perhaps. But it has all been long washed away with the bitter, the trauma, the dark, the sad sad pathetic being that I have become. The color and wonder have washed from the fabric of my being, leaving me a sad soggy faded and grey sock forgotten in the wash. There is no point. I’ll never be recovered from this. There is simply no point in trying, and try I have. 18 years to crumble and be quickly forgotten in the wastebasket. I will be forgotten and nobody will remember me. The Collapse takes and takes and takes and takes and I haven’t a thing left to give Except my broken, withered soul.