Nothing.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d put myself through this silent hell for long enough,
so why couldn’t I stop myself? Didn’t I have enough self-control to finish this once and for all?
I’d tried. I’d tried every month, every week, every day but I just kept coming back for more, even though I knew that what I was doing wasn’t good for me. I knew that it would ruin me. I knew that it would ruin me for good and I couldn’t ever be the same person. I wanted to go back to that day when I was an innocent child and didn’t know what I was doing, what was right or what was wrong, when I didn’t realize that there really was bad in the world. I wanted to go back to that day where I didn’t know that such a thing could happen, especially to me. It seemed like I was just going through life’s motions and never actually living it and I continued to make the same mistakes, over and over again. I swore over and over again that I’d learned my lesson, that I’d stop, that I’d finish it once and for all. But right when I thought I had control of myself that longing, that want, that need came back into my being, flooding my veins and taking over my body, removing that self-control, that will that I’d had, and destroying it. I tried so hard, but nothing ever stopped me. Nothing stood between that horrible problem and me. I sat alone watching that rain pour down the glass on the window mindlessly, aimlessly, reminding me of myself. I watched drop after drop hit it and start shakily downward before completely veering away from the original path it had taken. As the radio hummed out slow tunes from the dim corner I shivered, the cold air grasping my skin tightly. I could feel the pressure of my problem running its hands over me, holding me away from my life, leading me back to what I wanted to get away from. My eyes blurred as the emotion filled me. I knew it was wrong. I hated that it was wrong. I hated everything that I was. I hated everything that I did, everything that I lived for… I lived for nothing. But it had me convinced that I lived for everything that mattered. But that one thing didn’t matter, did it? I could feel it watching me. I could feel it there, waiting for me to give in. I wished that I could just be set free; I wanted to be set free. Why couldn’t it just leave me be? I stood hesitantly, the tears coming to my eyes once more, this time spilling down my cheeks slowly as my fragile strength disappeared. That need got stronger and I could feel the helplessness digging into me. I shook with fear, knowing what I was about to do to myself. I walked slowly, stopping every moment or so, trying to pull myself back. My strength wasn’t good enough and I continued to walk towards my ruined life’s meaning. I arrived at my destination. Staring at it, I blinked. It always pulled me back for me, and always held me down. But that didn’t stop me as I reached for that needle. In that syringe held my life’s meaning. It was nothing; I was nothing.