I am an amalgam of things. I am strong, determined, a fighter. I am weak, sad, hopeless, and depressed. I feel trapped most of the time in a life that I am living, but mourning for the life I desperately want. While I am talented in numerous ways, it all seems completely shallow when I realize that I am not loved. I ache with the fury of Hell for the love I had three years ago. The security of spirit and vigor for life. I feel flawed, that no one could or ever will love me. I am intelligent, yet conniving. I constantly make plans to avoid tragedy, yet live in the wake of constant devastation. My adult wish is that of my childhood: to be uncreated by the God I often feels enjoys seeing my anguish. I see the good on people, I see the good in myself, yet am blanketed by insecurity. I realize much of this stems from youth, childlike thinking in an adult body. I am confused, exhausted and running like a rat on a wheel. I cognitively recognize my amazingness, but emotionally feel crippled and weak. My powerful body and mind harbors a frail and delicate child who is scared to the core of my soul. My core is a raging swirl of determination and defeat. I am filled with confusion that someone so talented, intelligent, and giving, could ever feel so alone, worthless, and pathetic. I wanted to die from the age of 5 till 21, then I struggled with the the love hate relationship of life until I was 30. Then life blossomed and my blindness was cured, laughter and joy entered my heart in a way I couldn't have imagined. Then darkness fell and decimated my every being. My soul screams in anguish and confusion, questioning the very God who created me. I feel weak for wavering in faith, for questioning my beliefs, for no longer seeing the value in a plan supposedly designed by the master creator. I recognize my selfishness and paralyzing insecurity that holds me hostage to a mind of dagger thoughts. I hate myself for being so paper thin and uncommitted to my faith, my beliefs, my God. Yet I keep going, drudging on in the scant hope that something great is out there. My heart continually pulls me down, tells me I'm a fool for holding on to this whisper of belief. My heart is racked with damnation for the life I don't have, the life I fear I may never have, the live I see others walk around with on a daily basis. My mind tries to console me, yet turns its back and tightens the grip of never ending memories colliding with dead dogma and conviction. I am a pile of nothingness, a corporeal shell playing mime. If others new the reality within me, they would agree that my damnation is grounded. Yet they don't, they focus on only what they can see, and to them it's amazing, beautiful, intelligent, adventuresome, and determined. I wish I matched what others think I am, I wish I saw and believed everything they believe. I yearn for comfort and the oxygen of life, because inside I'm drowning and can't swim. My pathetic, self-pittied filled reality. I feel like a fake, yet know I'm capable of being what everyone things I am. I simply lack the desire.