I've spent almost 16 years living. (It'll be exactly in about 1.5 months.) I've spent a large portion of that time looking in. Always finding a mess of things to pick apart. And slowly but surely, I've started to understand. I learn from myself why I am the way I am. But for each thing I learn, I find even more that I don't understand. I tried to understand others, but I can't, and so I stopped trying. After all, why try to interact with people, when people are the thing that have hurt you the most. The parts of me I know mean nothing, because nothing has meaning, but... No matter how much I feel that, some part of me wants to stay. Even with no reason to stay, some broken part of me feels like there is a meaning, if I just look. But I've looked, and looked, and looked, with no success. I can't find something that doesn't exist. But I have found, that where others find joy in seeing happiness, I just find a distaste. Why should others be happy, when there is so much wrong around them? How can others find joy, when all I see is the pain, hate and sadness? Why can't I find a reason to live, but refuse to die? Why am I the one who remembers all the bad, but can't do anything about it? It's not fair, but that's how things seem to be. And I hate that it is the way it is. What I'm trying to say, is that life has always been a miserable thing for me, but I can't seem to let go. Sorry if this seems a little depressing, but I needed to vent, because there is an increase in things today.