The everlasting lifemare

Kurra it's not a question of want with those things I am that person, through much pain, torture, and so many other abuses I have strived to be that person and all it achieved me was more pain and abuse, I don't lie, I hate lies I see no purpose in them, I would give my last dollar to a person who required it even if it was not of necessity to them, I can feel nothing of feel with the power of a thousand supernovas 'everything or nothing' one of the reasons emotions confound me, I don't think I could be more of any of those things than I have made myself. But in the end no matter what no one cares except what they can take from me, and there is nearly nothing left to take, over the years so much has been taken, torn from me. No one has ever cared and being that I am 36 have no friends and no partner (past or present) and no real future as all i find in the world is greed, lust, lies and promiscuity. Things that I find disgusting and abhorant draws a bleak and sad future for me

I guess it would be classified as rural

Not much like that around here for a fair way and given the nature of the place po shops would have plenty of staff too, it would cost me more than I can afford to get anywhere like that,

Plenty of old age homes, I do some work for elderly people around if they require it, I just wish one day someone would care about me, I dreamed of having a family of my own I dreamt of having something that would perhaps give me hope or the feeling I am not what people have made me. But yeah I should just give upon foolish dreams. I am scared every day, terrified, the thought what if something were to happen to me during the night I would say at best it would be weeks before it was even noticed. Probably by my family, I am that person, it's terrifying, and it hurts to be ................this

No past, no present, no future. I am at fault it's always been me my mind was broken if not always then when I was very young, I have no value in this world, and I am tired of this pain the rupture in my heart, my swollen brain, my stomach trying to tear free of my body. The Monsterous flick book in constant show in my mind showing images of random events and horrors from my life.

36 f***ing years of f***ing worthlessness maybe there will be an epoch where a person like me might have some value but I doubt it, we are only as valuable as what we can be used for what can be drained from us, eventually no matter how strong, no matter how hard we try we fight we end up just a desiccated husk, perhaps it's what I deserve