Lost

I'm feeling terribly lost at the moment. I've been struggling on in hopes I'll land a PhD, a job, just anything but I'm out of luck. I've seen for the first time in a while how fragile dreams are. I've been untouchable for so long that a single prick has left me fearing for my safety with painful dread. I've realised how fragile I am, that maybe I can't cope? That maybe all this darkness I've been bottling up has eaten away at me. I'm afraid to tell my parents, that I'm a failure and that I couldn't keep my promises. I'm starting to hate my friends, who I've helped with all my effort, yet they won't even lend me an ear. I've realised how self-centered friends really are. I gave up trying to bring up that I'm ill and maybe I can't cope, they don't even look me in the eye when they say "I've had worst" . Maybe I should just grab the pills I need to take everyday and throw them at them. I'd love to see their faces, see how disgusted they are, and more than that, I'd like to see my face. How ugly would it look? My real face that I never show? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

But it's this catch-22 that I've found myself in, that no matter how hard I try, I will not get a PhD, a job, anything for a year. Maybe longer. I've not even started my exams yet but the outcome is the same no matter what. I start to think that I don't need to finish my degree, that maybe it's better just to go home with my tail between my legs. These dark thoughts are suffocating me, everyone just adds to my hate that I'm having cowardly thoughts of suicide. I'll never take my life but the very thought is dispiriting, leaving me staring at my feeble hope for hours on end. I've always had hope, but even that is wavering. Even now I can't help but think it's all futile and that I should give up. My friends rely on me too much, that it makes me sick how they think that they can. It makes me mad how ignorant they are.

Is it me? Have I become a bitter person? Where is that invincible boy whose smile outshone even the Sun? I always thought he was a mask that I covered my scars with, but was it a lie? I wonder when he will return. Or is it possible that I've killed him? Somehow these hands with no blood stains shake in guilt. Making me feel all the more lost in life.

Thank you reading.