I very much question everything of this world.  What is the purpose of this life being the most prominate ponder.  If i have to think very, very hard to find the brief and rare moments of happiness does it make living worth while?  I'm not slitting my wrists as you read this, don't worry. But seriously?  Are those 12 minutes of pure, unworried, unabashed bliss worth the 30 years of struggle, pain, and utter hopelessness that make up the rest of the time?  Doesn't seem like it to me.  
I think about all that while sitting in the empty bleachers of my high school.  Staring at an empty field and sky full of grey clouds that promise rain, if only a taste.  The wind has kicked up a little and I'm letting this small relief of cool air calm the burning in my chest.  A suffocating burning that had worked its way into my entire torso.  My heart was beating one word; Trapped.  Trapped.  Trapped.  Trapped in this world that is doing it's best to eat me alive.  Trapped in the situations that are carving my heart from it's chest.  Trapped in myself.  Not knowing who I am.  I can't tell you a single thing about the inside of my heart.  I have a sneaking and paralyzing feeling that there isn't anything inside of me.  It's no lie that I've never been in love and question it's existence loudly and often.  The thoughts that I have are often influenced my books and songs and movies so that is basically a storage unit.  I have nothing in there worth sharing.  So why am I so tormented?  I have a favorite color (green) and a favorite book (The Outsiders) but I can't tell you what I think about....anything.  I can't tell you what my passion is, or what I want to do with life, or what my opinion of anything is...I'm empty.  I'm an empty wire that sparks and flops around when agitated but otherwise lies dormant.  Lies Dormant.  That is terrifying.  I am neither smart, nor dumb.  I'm not ugly or pretty. I'm an empty average vessel that apparently is only capable of melodramatic sorrow.  Woe is me.  How pitiful is that?  Trapped.  Trapped.  Trapped.  Trapped in a heart that has long ago been iced over, inside a body that isn't mine, in a house that is broken, in a life that is forced in this world that is unyielding.  
The small voice of reason (I'm hoping that it is God) says that it can't all be for nothing.  Your struggles have to have a purpose!  You aren't empty!  How could you breath in the storm if you weren't full of something special hidden away.  It's not for nothing.  It's not for nothing.  You won't come out unscathed but this is the part of your life where you have to be the warrior.  You have to brave the battles and weather the storm.  You will be beat and broken and stomped half to death, maybe a couple times but you will rise again.  Scarred and stronger and more full than before and you will be something.  Someday you'll be able to put down the sword and take off the armor and you'll then be able to see what it was all about.  But for now it's going to be a rough hard road and you've a long way to go before it's all over.

Unfortunatley that task seems so heavy. 

And yet again I know I'll bear it, even though my body aches and my soul cries out.

Until then.

Warrior on.