The Ceasing Hope for Another Portrait

[Louie Acosta]

All of the things I envied of, come from the families of my friends. Being unbroken, being complete, being intact, and most of all, being happy. I have realized, that all of these things are not attainable for us anymore. The damage is irreparable, and it cannot be fixed anymore. It left a huge rift in our bonds; the bonds they built that it should've been a sturdy foundation. Unfortunately, the right was far stronger than our bonds. It swallowed everything into its own empty existence, where only destruction awaits. As I go on with this meaningless life, with the decision that it is irreparable, I paused for a bit. I have all the necessities to repair it; to make it re-exist; to make it happen. But I couldn't control them. I can control the ship, but I cannot control the passengers. It's destructively depressing, that you couldn't do anything to experience pure happiness born from families while you still have the time and the resources. When I realized all of these, I stopped walking; I stopped moving forward. I was living in the past, and just when I wanted to live in the present, it leapt me to the future. The future of regrets, the dead-end of the road. I live a meaningless life; an unfruitful one. Will I be able to continue walking, lifelessly stepping on puddles of water sifting through the road abundant with steep slopes? I do not want to regret, I do not want to lose the opportunities we have while none of us is slowly fading away, but I. Neither do I want to be an undead, living on but not living at all. At this rate, my self might fade away. Help me, my dearest sister. Help me not to lose my self in this looping process of depression. Should I still pursue the road to repairing broken things, patching them up even without permission? Or should I stop hoping that this could be fixed, at the cost of a possible major destruction of self? And when I die, as well as before I die, I want to claim that happiness, and let it stay with them for eternity.

- my personal essay

[EDIT]: Any review is accepted. This is also based on my own experiences, not on a point of view of a character.

[Pagano]

For something so emotional, I'd expect it to be frantic, incomprehensible. You, however, managed to make it readable. Flowed along. And while I could never get inside your head, you it does a great job of describing the atmosphere inside of it while you were writing this.