I dont know what the point of writing is, what the point of talking is, or even the point of living at the moment. I am exhausted, and sick of having a broken, bruised and battered heart. WIth life and joy comes pain. But shouldn't the joy be worth the pain. Too often then not I have more pain the joy. I am alone and lonely. Every time I try to reach out, my hand is slapped down. So i reach out less frequently and more timidly. Eventually I wont reach out at all any more.

I dont have the strength to go on caring for people while getting so little in return. I don' t know how i can keep loving while getting stepped on. I don't think people realize how much i do. i feel stretched to thin. doing small things for so many people, never being able to give enough attention to any one person or thing to earn anything in return. THe further i get the less i feel i deserve. I feel so incapable, so useless and pathetic. The more I am used the more i feel i have no value to offer.

Why do i even try