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 It seems like every day is a struggle, breathing feels like a chore, and being stared at by strangers begins to make me feel a sense of shame. 

I can't help, but be sad when I see happy emotions, I can't help, but get upset with myself for being happy for even a second, because I don't deserve to be happy. 

So why is it that, im still living, when I have no purpose? What is a life, without a purpose? What is a life, without love?

Everyday, becomes harder than the next, constantly hearing that, ending your story early is "bad for you" and that it is a sin to not be loyal to ones own tales. 

But how does one find faith, to continue the story, to continue reading, when there is no ending that piques the reader?

Life feels empty, sometimes a shell within becomes apparent, and also within, a dry and barren scene. 

Breathing feels empty, a shell that breathes air that could be put to better use for better individuals. 

Living with an inferiority complex, feeling like no matter what you do, you'll never be normal. Feeling like, you'll never be as good as those next to you. Feeling like, you always need validation, when in fact, there is no longer enough time to validate. 

Only main characters get special endings, I, was meant to merely fill in the space, of the background, for another heroines fairytale.