Walk me through this one. This may well be the event which causes me to retreat back into my shell. If there is a higher power, if there are spirits and reincarnation, then please give me something, something like a sign. This could be the event that ruins me. Who I am tends to destroy my life. Am I the in between? Am I the moment of anticipation? My life is a word, or a world, on the tip of my tongue, yet I cannot quite grasp it; however, I must continue trying to recall. I will not give in, even if I am doomed never to know the precious syllables. I will continue in this fashion, reaping little externally from myself, and obliterating many things which I had in reality. I do this in the hopes of being heard, in any way. I will flourish all my ideas, all my art, and hope that something gets through the barrier between myself and existence. My pain is not traceable; it is invisible. I do not have a tragic instance, one shining moment where I became this way. It has a name, my reason does, but it does not matter and points only to a vague idea. This reason is chronic, inescapable, and hereditary. My family have lived with it in a way that I refuse to, at least for now, although I hope to maintain my ideals even after my youth. Because there must be something in me that is not in them; there must be something. It feels as a divine presence, calling to me. I cannot forsake it; it is myself. It is who I am, and it tends to destroy my practical life.
But there are times when I think I will kill myself; there are times when I cannot stop crying because I know I can never express my pain in the beautiful way that I wish to. It is this which breaks my heart; all the things which inspire me also tear me apart. I will never be so good. I listen to Art of Life and cry so hard and long that I forget the thoughts that caused my tears. When I dry my eyes, I become content with what I am doing. I become determined to continue, no matter what force stands in my way. Even if I will never be so good, even if I cannot quite trace the word on my lips, I am not going to stop trying.
But please help me; send me your love.