Please tell me why

Why does my family have to be like that? Seriously, it's just getting to the point where I don't answer their phone calls anymore. I hate having to feel this way. A sense of hopelessness that just won't go away. I can't do anything right, I can't make it all better. I know it shouldn't be my responsibility but I feel, in some ways, it is. Maybe I rely to much on my parents... I know that I do, especially now where financial problems have risen and made it much harder to be able to make it on my own. I'm having to get another weekend job. Not much, but an extra paycheck. Perhaps I'll go and work at Subway again... I know how to do everything there... or worse, McDonalds. I don't want to, but if I had to, I would. I know it's settling for something I don't want to do but I haven't got a choice. I'm in need of some help and only I am going to be able to offer it to me.

Life just seems to keep getting snagged along the way. No matter how much I wriggle and move to try and bust free, there just isn't hope anymore. Everything in the future looks bleak. Everything wasting away. I know I have to keep fighting on, trudging through relentless waters of pain and of suffering to make it across where there is ground... something solid for me to stand on... but the current of giving up is strong and begs me to lay down and have it sweep me away further downstream to where I won't be able to return.

I wish I could just give up... but then life wouldn't be fulfilling. I know that someday, somehow, I will make things right again in my life. I have always wanted to give in to temptation of giving in, but I have always made it out with my head held high, even though a piece of me leaves after every battle.

What I fear is, is that if I fight again there won't be anything left to fight with. I'm physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted with everything and everyone. I don't want to talk to people any more and if I do it's a front. I spend most of the time in my room, sleeping, hoping that when I wake up things will be different again and better. I find myself reading more now than ever before [If I ever thought that was possible] because I don't want to face my own reality. I can't even write anymore, not like I used to.

My dreams seem to be slipping between my fingers; I feel lost and confused. My hopes are no longer thriving hopes. They have become a distant flicker of light somewhere in the darkest nights of drowning. My facial expressions show it, I'm sad all the time and unhappy. My head constantly hurts [more than with the migraines, anyway] and I don't know why. I don't sleep when I should and then fall asleep when I shouldn't. Maybe one of these times I'll drift away behind the wheel only to wake up with my maker.

I don't have the strength to end myself -- it's the most heinous of all sins. I don't have the courage to give up because I know it might get better. I don't have the will power to hope for a brighter day. I don't have the motive to get up in the morning anymore.

It all seems so lost.