I have these feelings and questions but still I can not comprehend the situation that I am in. It feels as though the internal struggle to find who I am and what I can be becomes ever stronger with nights like these. What is it that I lack? What do I need to do in order to better myself? Is it me at all? I’ve been told that it isn’t me but if that is true, why is it that the circumstances that I find myself in make me feel as though I could have done something different or better in an effort to turn these unfortunate events into ones that I know could please me. I want so badly to feel the happiness that seems to be just out of my reach, yet I have failed to reach that joy even once. Within my own mind, am I so desperate to feel that elation that I am lying to myself? If the situation went the way I hoped it would have, would I truly feel the same emotions that I believe I would? The doubt eats away at my mind and heart, while I mentally and physically sink into a deeper hole of unknown than I was already in. I am my own judge, jury and executioner, and this hole that I continue to dig for myself will be the unmarked grave that I will call my final resting place. I try to fight these feelings of despair but it is as though I am the wind blowing upon the rock of my emotions as it rolls down the mountain of happiness. The peak is my sanctuary while the base is my depression and as of right now the rock is nearing the end of its journey. The winds that I control are far from strong enough to change the direction of that rock and I need help in order to do so. Professional help is what I need for within my mind I continuously lose the battle between myself and I. Everyday I wish so desperately to feel normal, free of these anguishing thoughts and feelings. Maybe I could be someone that I could live with, and in turn that others could live with. But the hope that I have to be normal is but the rarest mineral in my world; while pain, confusion, and sadness are of abundance. The forest of my life has trees of sorrow, leaves of torment, and bushes of quiet suffering, while the flower of hope is scarce indeed. Whenever I do find one of those beautiful flowers it begins to whither and die as I touch it. It seems as though I do not have what it takes to nurture the hope that dwells inside me, and my search for one who does has come up with little. I have found hope, and as of right now I do not know if it has passed, but I desperately cling to the chance that it has not. The one I have found maybe be able to free me of this miserable existence and show me how to care for these flowers and give me the extra effort needed to get the rock to my peak of serenity. Patience with the passage of time is all I have but it is what I must hold onto in these uncertain times, for the possible reward upon the conclusion of this purgatory may bring what I so franticly search for. The promise I have made to myself will not be broken; I will wait, and I will never falter because my possible happiness depends on it.