Empty

I have run out of GAS. I have come to a standstill at the worst possible place. A descicion i shouldn't have to make has been thrust into my face, and with it I've been thrown to the lions, no assistance given. My brain is fried to the point that I no longer care. I have become a shell. Empty. I wouldn't be suprised if I was easily swayed by my surroundings, but alas, I am thick headed adn stuborn. I don't admit defeat easily. Yet despite this fact I feel beaten; cheated out of my right to be myself. So much pent up emotion in and empty space. I can find the anger with a simple reach. The dissapointment and mistrust become a fingertips length away. But where is my happiness? Why is it so difficult for me to be content? Why me? I hae tried getting it myself. I push away everything else to search. But it hid, so I sputtered on until now that I can no longer go. Don't misunderstand, I have not given up. I must wait; but for how long must I be made to sit here motionless? When will my happiness fuel me to go forward? I smash my head against the walls when I remember the complexity of my life. Then I do what I do best to survive; I supress.





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