User blog:Havoc98/Spilling some sorrows

So... it's been a while since I've last updated my Blog. I guess I'm kind of new to the whole thing. I have no one to really talk to about most thoughts that run through my head, but for the ones that I do have, I guess I don't want to be a burden to them. I don't expect anyone here to care, but I guess I'll just let it out here. Freedom of speech right?

Like I've mentioned in one of my previous blogs, I've gone through some sort of depression stage. I can happily say that I overcame the ordeal, but it still returns every now and then. It still hurts like a bitch, but not as much as when it was 24/7. I felt the empty feeling again. It's a bitter feeling, and it's hungry, unsatisfied, and lustful for something I can't seem to find and fill the emptiness with.

It's like a chunk of my chest went missing inside, and it was filled with restlessness, pain, loss, grief, anxiety, and utter hopelessness; all for something I'm not even aware of. As if something went horribly wrong and somewhere deep inside I know it happened and that everything's wrong, but I can't seem to discover what it is that went wrong. I find myself thinking of the future often, and all of it pessimistic. The thought of being a piece in someone else's game, the thought of living a meaningless and dull life, the thought of growing old to find that I never really lived my dreams, the thought that I'll just be another life in the millions that never made a difference. The thought of my life always being controlled by something out of my power always seems to haunt me the most.

I am well aware that I am just a weak fifteen year old, and am not capable of anything truly great. I guess that's just it, I fear being meaningless and having no place or use in any change. I want to make a difference, and not just be another meaningless name among the numberless tomb stones lying the fields of my final resting place. I want to die, knowing that I was worth something, that I lived a life that had meaning, a life that made a difference, a life that someone will remember so that some part of me lives on when I leave to wherever we end up.

I guess I fear the end as well. I was raised a Catholic, but even I have grown to doubt my faith. I used to be a strong Catholic before this sudden change in the summer. I matured both mentally and physically, and all my views changed. I discovered many ideas, and was kept awake by unsettling truths that people choose to hide in their innermost thoughts, only to face them again in the end.

If anything, we hide the many truths we are scared of facing behind life's material items. They offer temporary comfort, until our mind lingers and finds its way back to the unsettling topic. I fear where I go in the end, since I'm beginning to doubt the afterlife. I mean Heaven could be a beautiful lie, told to keep us from going mad and insane, that our existence was an accident, and that in the end all we really are; is ash in the end.

None of us are truly sure of an afterlife, and either way I lose. I slowly grew away from God, due to the struggle within the ordeal, and because of logical reasons as well. So if I am to die; I'll either go to hell for turning God away, or fade away, memory and all, since there is no afterlife. I know I'm not important, strong, cool, or anything, I'm just a kid. Another human being that'll grow, pay taxes, produce kids, and die; nothing special.

I also find myself wishing that life will change. That something exciting will happen; something that'll quench my thirst for action and adventure. It's a childish thought, but I hope for the day I become important and get to do things, save people, live adventure.

I know it's a very childish wish to gain superpowers or something like that, but can you really blame me? We all wish for some relief or escape from the ugly truth. The ugly truth that is our life; the life that we'll live being born, growing, working our souls away, and leaving empty handed to our deaths that promises a possible haven, or a possible void of nothingness. In the end we're all the same, and the thought disappears with a new game, toy, movie, show series, or friend.

But the truth is, no matter how long we run, how long we avoid it, how long we hide it; It'll face us in our deathbeds, and we'll all ask ourselves the same question "Did I live life the way I intended? Did I really make this life count?" and take it to our graves. For some, they'll grieve the truth and their answer, but for the very few, they'll be satisfied and proud. It's all really up to you and me; what we do with our lives, at least... that's what we like to believe...