My life seems as if is slowly spiraling out of control, even since the dawn of my seventeenth birthday. It all started with the deaths of six family members, and three good friends, not to mention the many night terrors that plague my nights. My black little heart is getting colder with every minute my life continues in this rapid disintegration. There was the death of my grandmother Marie Haze, and then it was my Uncle William. Next, there was my other uncle Mark and his was no natural cause. His life became to much to handle, much like my path is taking me, and he took his own life. Religion may tell me that he is burning within the fiery pit of darkness and chaos called hell, but I do not feel that God would condemn a person because of the fact that their life was to much to handle. Another to leave this earth was my grandfather, or who I called my papaw, and he died thankfully in his sleep. The friends my age whose lives were taken because of the mistake of driving while intoxicated, all about my age. Their lives not even begining to bloom, yet taken from them with the fury of a river. Down an endless path of malice and agony, and I cannot see where this current is dragging me now. Down a river of misery, over a mountain of pain, it will probably all end up the same. Sending me to a point of no return, to a place where people do not recognize who I have become. "Who is she" is what many shall say, because I will no longer be the friend, or perhaps more than that, that I used to be. I shall be a heartlessly numb monster who does not feel emotion, and shall no longer be known as the exceptional novelist. Her stories shall be buried within the past, and the dreams which allowed her to go on with life shall all but fade. I know my life is not the worst in this world, but all who love and care for me I end up hurting, and perhaps I do deserve all the agony that the world has allowed me to feel. But yet selfishly I dream and wish for true happiness, and like my novels depict true love. I laugh at myself because of these outrageous dreams I want. Dreams are meant to stay dreams, and wishes are all but reality. I know I do a lot of complaining, but I do not know what to do anymore. My faith is dwindling and my heart is being ripped slowly and torturously to the point where even now I do not recognize myself when I look in the mirror. My once gloriously bright hazel eyes, have become dark with despair. Love it seems has hidden itself from me, and taken the key to my destiny. All I ask is why? Why do people suffer so badly? I know people who are the best people you have ever met, yet their lives make others seem like faerie tales. The word that comes to mind when I think of the suffering of me and others I know is simply "Pain." But what is pain? The feeling you get when you slash your finger on a knife while cooking dinner? The feeling you get when you loose a loved one? But what is it truly? I believe pain is what you make it to be, for others pain is worse than others, but for people like me it is something you want to let go of you. Alright I have done enough complaining, and I am truly here to help others with there misery not to bask in my own. Let me know if anyone needs advice. I may not be a doctor, but I am probably speaking from experience.
xXxThe_Lady_Of_ChaosxXx Community Member 
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