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I can't keep going on. Not when there's no point. I wish I could stop breathing and will this fractured heart of mine to stop beating. Its incessant pounding in my chest brings me more pain than the blood flowing in my veins is worth. I'd much rather cease to be altogether than continue as I am for another moment. What's the point?

We give ourselves, all of ourselves, unrestrained, to people who do nothing but tear us to pieces and leave us in their wake. But why? When its so much easier to never let anyone lay a hand on you, why choose to offer yourself to the slaughter? The argument is that you do so for the opportunity to find your savior in the sea of blades. The one person who will guard you from the worlds wrath and loves fangs. And with that person you go off into paradise.

But thats a lie isn't it? If it were true, wouldn't there be a way to find them? Wouldn't there be some way to contact them? Or is suffering supposed to bring them along magically. That's now how this world works. No one in this world gets to be happy. We just get used and abandoned by everyone and everything we care about. One by one, day by day, till nothing remains.

I can't keep going. Not like this. Not feeling this again. Again for the same disease. And again for the same wound. I'd rather not be, than be as I am now. "When all you can do is die." All I want to do is die. Or pass into some form where these organs and these bodies don't hinder me.

I know what I want. At this moment I know what I want more than anything else in this world.

I want to burn. I want fire to consume me and cleanse me of this sickness. I want my ashes to be taken by the wind and scattered wherever the breeze sees fit. I want there to be no remains, nothing to identify. I just want...to go away...forever.