Posted by Anonymous on 2020/07/09 under Life I have always liked imagining there was much more to the world than I thought. More than I could imagine. Maybe I liked thinking that because it gave me hope. Because the world as I see it has no place for me, not in the long run. I am broken and I don't know how to fix it. People are throwing words like "suicidal" at my face. But I'm not. And I don't think anyone else gets to say that or decide that for me. I get to decide, and I am not. But I don't know what is out there for me either. I am alone. I don't think that can change. I may have people filling everyday of my life but when the curtain drops, inside this cranium of mine I am lone. The mechanisms people use to get in? All broken. The future looks bleak and, well, depressing. But I am here. And I am real. And it doesn't matter how I got here or how broken I got in the handling process. The truth of my existence is not up for debate. It cannot change. I am as real as they come, and I am good, and I am deserving. I don't think the Universe has scales. I don't think they weigh things right. So I'm not counting on it. Screw math. I will just exist, float on this river, come what may. I am strong. If nothing else, I was made that way.