i am insane

i am insane. my whole life, i thought it was everyone else. not true insanity mind you, but everything everybody talked about. it was all bullshit. it all meant nothing. they were just victims to their emotions. the fact is, proud as i pretend to be, i am broken inside. shattered memories of a distant past, a future that could have been. sure, i dusted myself off and got back on the horse every time the horse was dunked in burning pitch and sent off of mt. kilamanjaro to begin its last descent down the slippery, swirling slopes of ice into the darkness below. but what does it all mean? what is it for? why does it matter? every time i find myself down here again; cold, alone, frightened, a shadow of myself, and every time i climb up the mountain again to begin the ritual anew. what if this isn't what life is supposed to be about? i certainly don't know. i don't believe i possess any all knowing power to see the situation for more than what it is, my own tormented soul fighting against itself on quests for glory and what i thought would bring happiness in a life so desperately void of it. but even still, there has to be something. something more than god in the heavens breathing life into our bodies each morn just so we can set out towards yet another of life's great disappointments. there is no good in me. all i try to do fails. even when i think i'm right i'm wrong and none of these infinite battles will ever lead me to the happiness i seek. i see the evil in everything, and even the most beautiful gifts of all are sullied somehow by some imagined threat. consciously i know that everyone is not out to get me but yet how can i be so sure? i have failed myself in every other way possible, perhaps i am just deceiving myself. it is as though i am two people and the other is completely unknown to me. or is this just myself looking for someone to cast blame on when i know that i have brought the havoc down upon my own head? still i desperately yearn for an answer. not an answer to the meaning of life, but what does it mean to me? then i realize, my opinion is insignificant. unless i take the blade to my wrists and slice deep enough to watch the ebb and flow of my lifesblood spill out onto the carpet as i sink into peaceful nothingness, there is no escape. no help from anywhere. no respite from the depravity of my own mind. no peace... day in and day out much of my struggle is for that simple word. peace. calm. tranquility. but what does one require to attain such lofty goals? a promising relationship, stability, financial security, a rewarding career? but none of these are able to be obtained when one simply does not care. i can survive in a cardboard box. i can survive with no one and with the help of no one. i have proven this time and time again. but survival is getting old. why can i not thrive, why can i not be comfortable, why can i not have peace?! my whole life i have listened to those who said "i am done" and laughed at their weakness. today "i am done". there is no more fight in me. i sensed it a while back when father wrote me off as a lost cause. he was right. i simply don't care if i survive anymore. i have given all of the good in me to those i will always feel were deserving in their own right, and there is nothing left for me to survive on. or even care if i survive on. i allowed myself to get close. i allowed myself to fall in love. i allowed myself to take the ride again. i have brought this on myself and there is no turning back. what i have said, i have said, what i have done, i have done. part of me clings to a fleeting hope that this is just another bout of depression, another bump in the road, and that everything will work itself out driven by the natural order in things. but i know the truth. i have seen the darkness in the eyes of a soulmate who simply could take no more... in the mirror. there is no reconciling what has been lost and nothing else in life that is worth fighting for. i poured all of my energy into fighting this last fight, and that wasn't enough. there is nothing else that can be accomplished from this. i have failed myself in the only fight that meant anything. i have failed the only person i have truly loved. i know the steps i need to take. "survival mode" my father called it. i don't care anymore. i legitimately have gone to the proverbial requirement of hiding oneself, crawling into a hole, waiting to die. it sounds pathetic even when i type it. such disdain for the weak yet shattered and writhing on the floor yourself, boy? the voice in the back of my mind. always present, quiet, watching. then a spurt of courage. and then the voice. given up, have we? visions of the future dance in my head for a fleeting moment, and then the voice, you're not going to make it. stop wasting your time. you are the cause of all of your problems. you are incapable of dealing with them. your god has abandoned you. you have no one to rely on. you are weak. you are pathetic. you are nothing. you'll never be happy. you don't even know who you are. you're crazy. you're talking to yourself. you're making the problem worse. you aren't going to get better. you've always been this way. you cost your parents hundreds of thousands of dollars because you were just as fucked up when you were a child as you are now and now you have no way of getting any help even if you were strong enough to want to. no wonder you're father gave up on you. no wonder everyone you care about gives up on you. ask yourself why you used you're instead of your. You are father. you are your father. stings a little, doesnt it boy? what are you going to do about it? nothing, you're useless and selfish just like the old man. you'll go to sleep, huh? try it. see if i let you get any sleep at all. face your problems, boy! it's you. this world doesn't need you, its proved that over and over again. why are you still here? because i have to be, i answer. i won't take that final step. that last decision because what if i'm wrong? i'd have to be sure. and i can never be sure. i'm not sucidal, i'm apathetic. perhaps i need to be homeless again. perhaps i need to find the will to survive. to feel the hunger pangs as i fight for the scraps i survived off of. to feel my mind deteriorate as i bang my head against the wall trying like hell to keep food in my body and some form of shelter over my head. but to build it up again only allows for it to be broken down in the future. for another promising human being to come along and unite over common gripes and interests and to perhaps build a future with, and you'll do it all again. what is the point in even fighting for the scraps when you know you'll be back fighting for them again. i have travelled this path enough. there isn't more to life for me. i am what i have become and i cannot change who i am. this i have proven. god graced me with intelligence and the tools and resourcefulness to stay alive, but what is the point if there is truly nothing left worth living for? how sad is it to see that you live your life attached to the back of the ones you claim to love, finding your self-worth in their admiration and love. how pathetic is it that you require others to find your happiness? how vile is it that you quit, when that support is not present? I tear myself apart, seeking the answer to these questions and yearning to find the drive to survive once more. i find myself wanting...