Patience...

I’ve figured out my definition of life. It’s something that we go through, just to get to the end, we suffer, we wait.
When we’ve reached the point to where we have nothing left to say, not a word to utter.
Nothing left to feel, for we are senseless,
That is when life is truly over.
But many people misunderstand that feeling with the feeling of depression.
Some mope around and don’t say anything, and pretend not to feel anything because they want life to be over. They are getting a sick feeling of sadness. It’s like a vine.
Or more like a vein. It starts off at a huge point in their lives. Then it gets thinner, and thinner, and it leafs off into more parts of them. I feel so very sorry for those who cannot rid themselves of depression. And those who are happy claim that it’s easy. I’ll tell you it’s not. You need another setting to attend to. New people, new place, new world. They need a place to be comfortable. It was quite quick for me to get over my depression. So does that mean I was even depressed in the first place? It might. It might not. All I know is how I was feeling. How I wanted to be. Who I was. Who I was dealing with. I took bullshit from just about anybody who would lay it out to me. I took it and I let it sink in until finally it took grasp of my throat and started to squeeze. I felt suffocated. My situation: Sitting in a dusty room. Small television. Nothing to watch. Bored. Ate whenever I was bored. The room was dark. Dimly lit, I should say. I was home alone most of the days, it was usually rainy. It was a quite depressing neighborhood seeing I lived there with my mom and younger brother. It was a new subdivision and our house was one of three. 2 old people lived in one and a retarded man in the other. Yeah, life there was just grand. Eventually, I cut myself. More, and more, and more. I bled out the loneliness, I bled out the pain. Hell yes, it hurt, but it was comforting. My situation now: Better neighborhood. Sun shining in my room constantly. New friends. An actual, living, breathing, next door neighbor boyfriend. Better school. Nicer, more, open people. As you can tell the difference, it’s pretty big. I feel better now. I haven’t even thought about bringing a razor to my skin. Although I did suffocate myself here, it wasn’t for long and I was just being stupid and taking a situation out of control. So as you can see, when life is painful, it is supposed to be painful. You are supposed to be patient and wait for the road to end, even if it is horrible and sad and tragic. It will end. But the sun will still shine, others will still live, and peace with still stay within the hearts of others. You should go through life, go through the tears, go through the pain, and even if it gets fucked up a tiny bit, you should wait and see what kind of tragic (or beautiful) ending life has to offer. No, I’m no talking you out of suicide or saying you shouldn’t consider. I’m saying, patience is a virtue and when you wait, trudge through life, close some doors and walk through some open ones, the wait could possibly change your life.