Sometimes I think: was I born missing a piece? Did this ability to believe that life is worth living come with a defect? Because I look at other people and it seems like they have an internal button that I never received. A button that transforms pain into growth, loneliness into reflection, emptiness into searching. In my case, the button is broken. The pain remains pain. The loneliness remains loneliness. The emptiness only increases.
And the cruelest part is this: the emptier I feel, the more people distance themselves. Nobody wants to be near an emotional black hole—it sucks the light from everyone. So I end up convincing myself that I have no value at all. That I am just a negative space occupying a place that should belong to someone who truly deserves to be alive.
In the end, the question that hurts the most is not "why do I want to die?"
It's "why should I want to live if nothing inside me can honestly answer that?" I've come to the conclusion that I don't hate life itself—I hate the way I've always dealt with it. Always afraid, feeling everything instead of absorbing only what was necessary. Whether I was "winning" or "losing," I absorbed everything around me. And when I was close to fighting for something—like a Formula 1 driver on the last lap—I gave up on the possible victory, because more uncertainty only brings me more anxiety.
And the cruelest part is this: the emptier I feel, the more people distance themselves. Nobody wants to be near an emotional black hole—it sucks the light from everyone. So I end up convincing myself that I have no value at all. That I am just a negative space occupying a place that should belong to someone who truly deserves to be alive.
In the end, the question that hurts the most is not "why do I want to die?"
It's "why should I want to live if nothing inside me can honestly answer that?" I've come to the conclusion that I don't hate life itself—I hate the way I've always dealt with it. Always afraid, feeling everything instead of absorbing only what was necessary. Whether I was "winning" or "losing," I absorbed everything around me. And when I was close to fighting for something—like a Formula 1 driver on the last lap—I gave up on the possible victory, because more uncertainty only brings me more anxiety.
