Why

I suppose I have questions.

About who I am, why I am here. It's not enough for me to just know that everyone has questions, that everybody is stumbling around in this pointless game with no clue as to the why and wherefore. I need to know. I need to pick myself back up again, after having fallen so low, having sailed so high. Bursting into flames from flying to close to the sun, I lift my charred wings and shake the ash and dust from whence I came, to what I shall return.

I feel hopeless and yet hopeful. I know that the sun shines for us all, yet the warming rays must be sought out. I need to accept the help I have been given and continue on my path upward, out of the dark and gloomy mire of depression which has been my state of being for too long. I need to find a way home, to light and happiness.

If happiness is simply a state of mind, what is it that is keeping me away? I have everything a boy could need, friends, family and extended support. And yet all I feel like doing is breaking down and crying. About all the past and what could have been, about what I have gone through and what I am going through. And I feel that no one knows what it's like to be me, even though people know me better than I know myself and I imagine they have a good idea of what I'm going through.

I just don't know what I need to be happy. I'm always afraid, always running.

I suppose I need to speak to someone about the crazy events that led me to this place, but who would believe me? What do you do with an impossible theory that you can't let go of? How do you deal with the fact that either you or the universe is twisted beyond belief, or that you may have figured either of them out?

I suppose I don't know what to do.

But I suppose the answers will come to me.