The Shortest Story Cuts the Deepest

I wiped the tears from my face and I slowly looked away from the mirror. I was ashamed. Of who I was. Who I was becoming. I was turning myself weak! I hated it! I needed to break free! I needed some fucking courage for once in my short pathetic, useless life! I. Need. To. Be. Free! I need closure. I have to believe in who I want to be and that's kinda' shit seeing as what I am now is basically nothing more than a carcass with no actual fucking purpose. Cant take it but I can sure as hell spit these words out like venom cant I? Why am I doing this? I should be so fucking happy! I could have a voice! I think the fact of being knocked down so many fucking times has made me so eager to fall in to this bullshit they call depression or in a rut or some shit like that. It's neither of those fucking things is it? It's the feeling of being useless. Empty. Worthless. I've never been the prettiest, the most perfect, the most talented, the cleverest or even the funniest and what makes it 10 times worse is that all of my friends are all of those things! I love them to bits and they deserve all the opportunities they get. It's just, sometimes I don't feel like I'm flying or dreaming or living, I just feel like I'm dragging my empty fucking soul across the carpet like I shouldn't even be here. So what do I do now? I fucking do the opposite to what I want or feel like doing. I want to hide then I draw lots of attention to myself. If I want to die then I see no other option but feel alive. If I want to cry, die, fade and run away from every fucking thing then there is no other option but to rise and smile to the world like I don't give a shit when inside, I really do. Pretending. Is that what courage is? Pretending to be some fucking thing you ain't? I really don't know. I just know that I need it! I need courage...