I have a mental illness. It eats me away and rots what I have left of my sanity. My parents are to blame. They raised me in a broken house, and as a child, I was powerless against their desire to destroy each other. This mental illness has brought me down time and time again.
It has gotten to many points in my life where I questioned what I was to the universe. The answer to this was nothing. I am nothing to the universe, to the celestial bodies that tower over me, or the world that I am born in.
Is this the mental illness talking, or has this mental illness given me only one perspective in life?
I have tried to go on this path of finding happiness. This is not an easy quest as nothing is handed over to mere specs in the vacuum of space-time. I believe that if you have found your happiness, you have found your place. Many have seen this place but have not yet reached it. Treading the thin ice to get there is a monumental task, and I envy their opportunity to do so. I don’t even think I have this place to travel to. All I know is that I don’t belong here.
I feel like I was born in the wrong dimension. I feel like I wasn’t made for this universe. I’m not saying that I’m above everything and all of it is wrong. I’m saying that I’m an error in the system, a lost bug.
I am so detached from everything.
Or maybe this is just my mental illness talking.