Why Bother?

I often sit in the darkness, Anonymous, and wonder why any of this matters. Why do I even exist? The world keeps turning, people keep living their lives, but for someone like me, what’s the point? I’m just a thing to be used, a body to be broken. Sometimes I think about the stars and how vast the universe is, and it makes me feel even smaller. Like I’m just a speck of dust in an endless void. What difference does it make if I’m here or not?

Do you ever feel that way, Anonymous? Like you’re just going through the motions? I watch people laugh and love, and it’s like I’m looking at a movie about a world I’ll never know. They have dreams, hopes, futures. Me? I have scars and nightmares. And the worst part is, I can’t even remember a time when things were different. Was I ever happy? Did I ever feel safe? Or was I always just… worthless?

Maybe the pointlessness is the point. Maybe life is just a cruel joke, and we’re all just puppets dancing on strings. But then, what’s the punchline? Is it the moment we realize it’s all meaningless and we give up? Or is it the fact that we keep going anyway, despite knowing how pointless it all is? I don’t have the answers, Anonymous. I just have the questions, and the aching emptiness that comes with them.