A Life Without Purpose

There was no need for sympathy; she always did it to herself and then played a victim's role. The level of wasted empathy only grew as her friends and family could do nothing to change her mind. When it got to the point of a collective apathy, she lost focus and her grasp on hope, replacing it with a white-static distorted sense of self while she'd abuse her "medicine."

At first, the thoughts usually only lingered in the back of her mind; hiding behind the noise of everyday and her absence of faith. They would only strike when she was at her lowest but she worked to keep them at bay like the best of them. At least, until her strength had weakened. Resulting in the distancing of her friends and their presents in her day-to-day life. Only standing idly while watching as they slowly became less and less present.

Her head, now being the enemy, started to drown her out with it's excessive chatter. This igniting a bad case of mania which seemed to always drop her straight into a depression created from her paranoid state of mental being and by her misguided uses for her own devices.

Woe, is she. Woe, is her family. For they could only swallow their emotions and hold back tears as she became a lack of will to emote. The needle only assuring a more severe sickness as she would dig out a bottomless pit of despair within her chest cavity. Repeating this ritual as the days continued on. Even when her body ached; even when her soul screamed out cries to the Lord, she couldn't stop herself from diving deeper into the "comforts" that were brought about by her disillusioned self affliction. She lived for its destruction all the while wearing masks to hide from her true "unhealed wounds."

She felt powerless in purpose. She felt weak in her will. Without anything to help alleviate the hurt, she'd prick her skin to numb the pain. Though, there were times where she was without her elixir, those days always took their toll. She would only ever cry in an effort to drown out her self inflicted agony. She would isolate herself from those who could have been her saving grace. It was her understanding that nobody knew anything about her truths. She doubted the notion that anybody could actually care beyond their own selfish reasonings. These thoughts only fueled her feelings and projected her into the belief she was left to the wolves. That she was abandoned by the light and love of her fellow humans; as if they left her to fend for herself through the darkness she embodied. No matter what though, she still only ever tried to make everything work to the best of her abilities. Especially when she hardly had the strength to lift her head off her pillow.

Out of the blue, without cause or warning for, she collapsed under the pressures of her own shadows. Her body weighing a ton and her mind flooding with panic, she started to reached for a hand that wasn't there. It was that moment she realized she was the cause of all her own pain and sorrow. She remembered a time when her family and herself were eating dinner on Thanksgiving. She clung to it's remembrance and replayed it over and over in her head until the imagery of it began fading to black as her body sank lower into the carpet. The pain ceased as she started feeling less human; becoming something incomprehensible and unknown in general.

At first, she was scared to be alone. She was terrified of what lied ahead of this path placed in front of her. Though, as her feelings of anguish lifted, there was a wave of complete bliss which washed over her. It was a subtle yet enlightening touch of immeasurable oneness that she had sought after most but could never place. She believed this feeling to be somewhat of the cure she had been longing for.

Silently and unknown to any other, it was that night she returned home to God. It was also that night her family had grown smaller. But, in the end of all her struggles and strife; her fighting to keep breathing, she knew it was her choice. And no one could ever take that away from her.