I’m 47 years old and when I look back at my life I can’t find a single person who ever loved me. I began life as an unwanted pregnancy between two people who hated each other. Once my birth led to their lives forever being entwined, it seems that they could not get over their resentment that my existence was the cause of their misery. My mother spent my childhood deeply depressed. We did not know the words for it at the time and I did not understand the reasons even though I now do. Despite that, the damage it caused me, is apparently unreparable. In their attempts to improve their lives, they sought God. The oldest illusion in the world. As a whole society needs to be able to believe that someday things will be better. Because life is so miserable the idea of an Afterlife where you things will be perfect and stop hurting was the only way to keep the human race continuing in life. Some people are lucky and apparently never see through the illusions and are able to maintain a steadfast belief and therefore hope and the reason to keep living. Unfortunately the way my mind works I’m constantly faced with a nagging feeling that something is off and always want to seek to know the truth. I suppose in that way I doomed myself. Because it was through that seeking that I realized how imaginary it all was. Once it really saves in that there really is nothing to life other than suffering and misery and no relief when it’s over, your entire viewpoint on everything in the world changes and becomes much more bleak. Extenuating circumstances throughout my life contributed to the fact that I’m still here. The indoctrination of religion in my childhood and a fear of going to hell prevented me from ending it as a child and young adult. The fact that by the time I learned the illusion I had already had children prevented me from ending it because of the trauma it would cause them. Various people throughout life have either thought they loved me, or knew they didn’t but actively sought to make me believe that they did and my desperate, from the time I can remember, need to be loved, kept me clinging to life, always desperately wishing to be proven wrong. Maybe it does get better, maybe somebody does love me, maybe the fulfillment of producing good human beings and watching them grow would make it worth it. But as I am proof of, children who are raised by a mother’s who can’t fix themselves and can’t find happiness and can’t stop hurting Don’t raise productive human beings. They raise children who grow up to spend their own lives hurting as they did. 47 years of cumulative pain and thoughts about the hopelessness of it all Make day-to-day life unbearable. I personally find it almost impossible to hurt other people. I will bend over backwards and make my life more miserable in order to ease the slightest pain for anyone else, stranger or loved one. Knowing that I’m like this and never once in life coming across another person like that is agonizing. What is so wrong with me that not one person can be found on this planet who can love me and wants me to be in their life. Why is it when all I try to do is improve myself and make life better for myself and everyone around me can there not be found a single person who cares if I’m here beyond what I can provide for them. Why have I gone through life without one single person wanting to seek to ease my pain? And the biggest question, why no matter how many times I have been used up and abused and discarded do I still continue to give? Why can I not come to terms with the fact that I am not loved and never will be loved and be able to be content with that? I could continue day to day life if I could just get rid of the need to be loved because then I would not feel the utter despair when time after time what I already know is shoved in my face as proof. Why is it that I can know this is a fact but I cannot make myself believe that it is a fact? Why can’t I get rid of the feeling. Why can’t I just be like hundreds of thousands of people out there and only concerned for myself? Why do I allow people to continuously use me up by giving endlessly? I know the only way to be free of pain is to die and have it be over. Why, when they only thing in life I want is for the pain to stop can I not just end it? Why is my brain complex enough to realize and think of these things? Why couldn’t I be one of the lucky ones secure in my illusion until life naturally decided that I get to be done? And why since I am not afforded that luxury is 47 years of this pain not enough that life grant me the mercy of it being over?