The Counselor

I feel that as well. I honestly wish I weren’t here, as there is no point to my existence. I hate myself because I have no "self." I try my best to understand and help others as much as I can. But in the end I am always abused, used, broken, scared— left with more painful scars that never go away. I try to understand what everyone is going through, so that I may help them, and make sure that they never have to go through what I had to and still have to go through. I don’t want to be a bad person, but my definition of good and bad are the exact same. Good and bad are simply another person’s perspective. Life is just a cycle— a long tunnel that is both infinite in length and degradation. Nothing has meaning in the end. So I try to give others purpose, reason, "happiness," things that I myself don’t have, so I can be a person that they can rely on. Because then I can at least do "something," even if it’s for someone else’s sake. I want to try and help you too. But it appears my efforts aren’t great nor "good" enough. I’m still new to being a counselor for others, though I’ve been told I’m good at giving advice— even if the advice comes from a very esoteric message. I hope I can be there for you more often, as I want to be able to give you what I can never reach: a real “life.”