There is a weight on my back. Something I carry everywhere I go. Thoughts, feelings, urges…This life is a tiresome one. I’m always dragging my feet and looking at the ground. Is it alright to say I don’t want to live? Such an awkward thing to say. How do you respond to such a thing. The most simple responsibility humanity has is to live. It shouldn’t be hard, but to me it’s like fighting a mountain. The sheer pressure of this fight to live often makes me crumble.
I have a responsibility to stay alive. To my parents, to my siblings, to friends I never experienced till recent years. I keep paying a price for this life that but there is no equal exchange for happiness. My tears hold no monetary value. The fight hurts, I have shed so many of those valueless tears. I can’t give up, but it hurts so much.