Tortured, haunted, possessed by thoughts, memories, of times when I fought. When I fought so hard for this story that I am writing that I can’t ever seem to get the full picture of no matter how hard I try to zoom out my lens and focus. 

I am tortured by the thought that with all the love in this world, the love I find is always out of reach until it eventually becomes out of sight, and before I know it, gone. How am I supposed to touch souls with my guidance but not be able to share in the love that I have helped find? Don’t I deserve that love? A love that is so unique and so powerful that it’s unfathomable that I have found it so many times, and yet somehow end up right where I begin, alone. 

I am haunted by my memories of happiness, of excitement, and therefore of times of sadness and fear. I’m haunted by unfinished stories stopped so abruptly, never to feel a proper ending. I am haunted by the fear of never being enough. I am scared that with all that I have fought for, for all that I have lost, and for all that I have been able to gain, my ending will be cursed with feeling so unfinished, that my purpose will not be fulfilled, and above all else, that I will become forgotten. I am reminded of the moments where I gave it my all, I am reminded of those who gave all they could with me, for me, and I know I am supposed to not let any of that be in vain. But it is so hard sometimes to not let my pain be in vain.

I am possessed with the thought that I have no right to say it’s so hard when I am tortured by the stories of struggles that have gone down far darker paths than I. I am possessed by contradicting thoughts of wanting to give up but never allowing myself to. I am possessed with the thought that I must be as perfect as I can be. I am possessed with the thought that I can’t let anything just be when I know what I see is something worth fighting for. I am possessed with the idea that there is always something you can do to make a difference, but every day I still wait for someone to make a difference in my heart and each night I lay awake in bed, wondering what I did wrong for this bed to be empty next to me. 

I am cursed knowing that all that I want is out there but the means of having those things have been blocked off and all I am left with is questions as to why? Why am I cursed to always be out of reach of those I wish to help and love the most? Why am I cursed to always find myself breaking down to the point that the hospital is my second home? Why am I cursed to be reminded of the things I can guide others towards but not possess myself? Even if those questions had answers, I can only say that the circumstances have brought me to who I am today. Not every decision I have made is right. Not every person I brought into my life always felt like they were right to be there. Not every fight I have fought has always felt like it’s been worth it. But what I am cursed most of all with, is knowing that despite the memories, feelings, and thoughts that plague my rather complex mind, I will always endure, for better or for worse, in my path of finding a purpose, to make it all worth it, of making it all make sense, and making it all mean something worth a damn.