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It's 2:14am. I am lucid, lucid with no alcohol coursing through my veins. I like to throw myself into things, pretending I am untouchable for a moment at least. I think it is because of my sadness, you know that hole in the middle of your chest that weighs down your every action. Many times, I look for things, people or small chemical balls of joy, to take me away even for a moment from the blandness existence that surrounds me. I think it is because I hope so much, even when I am let down by the world, for even a glimmer of happiness. Even happiness itself though, is never enough. Nothing in this world is enough for me, I think other people feel this way, but they do not want to admit it. Today, I realized this is me. No matter how many pills I take, or how much stimulants I use, I will never change how I am as a person. This person though, is coldly distant, a hermit of a person. I know it is not someone people like, or want as a friend, genuinely. It's a characteristic that they would prefer someone not to have. I think I should go with it. It's like this complete sadness in my heart that nothing could ever cure, it breaks my heart. A lot of the time, I just want to die. I just want nothing to hurt me anymore, and it's so hard to keep waking up and seeing the people around me try so hard, to live. It's like I was given poison when I was born, the toxin of life. I never thought of it, before but I remember saying it. It's hard, to live, it's hard to exist, because every day you find new corridors filled with voices, or people so cruel that make you want to fall. And every corridor seems to grow longer, and longer, as you keep walking. As you finally grab the handle of the door, proud of the courage and strength it took to get there, find disappointment as you open it to reveal yet another hallway filled with the same things as the last. It never ends, the suffering. It's just so hard sometimes, it's hard not to empathize with suicidal people. Alas, this world was not built for the sensitive of heart, and it never will be. So we must endure, and hope our tender hearts build themselves walls of stone. Forever and always, suffering.