The Struggle

Sometimes, depression and sadness overwhelm me. And I keep struggling against fear. Struggling is what I call it.

I lived without stopping, ever. I needed a break, needed to be alone, in a quite place where I could think. What I'd think about I didn't know. But I sensed that I needed to stop and think a little. Maybe look deep inside myself. Backward too. Even if afterward everything was still the same.

But it's hard to say,"Stop", if everyday you face infinite temptations.

I've always lived as if there were no end in sight. What I mean is, I'm continually destroying things and building them back up again.

It never occurred to me that I might end up crazy or suicidal. It's not my way to grow, keep things, or look to the future.

Little by little the weight on my back gets heavier and heavier.

There is something missing in me. Once I have love I seem to do everything I can to hurt it, to destroy it, make it their fault for loving me in the first place.

How do I end this roundabout?

When I'm filled with fury and rage, and I've got to decompress, I know the answer; alcohol, sex and drugs.