indifferent

i'm at one of those points that i look around and it feels that the world, that life seems so indifferent to whatever struggles i have and the resulting inner pain i'm experiencing; and i wonder, why does that bother me? i mean, why do i believe that life should develop in a way that supports and nurtures me?

perhaps it's because to believe otherwise, to accept that my life will always be about suffering mentally and emotionally in a world that is coldly unconcerned, would push me over an edge from which there would be no return.

i've been in this place before (more times than i often feel is fair for one human being to have to have experienced) and each time i seem to get closer to that edge of oblivion.

i've never looked over the edge. it frightens me. i worry that in doing so i will see an illusion of welcoming relief that will lure me over and away from existence.

i have read and heard about so many people with seemingly more fulfilling lives than mine who have done so. i do not want to follow them, but i believe i understand why they made that fatal step.

one day they looked up with all the hurt they'd endured for so long, looked around and saw a world that seemed indifferent to their experience, and then looked over the edge and thought, "could that really be any worse than what i'm experiencing now?"

i do not know the answer to that question; and, as i think it should be, i would rather the answer find me than seek it out myself.