i've tried, i swear i've tried hard but it's never going to be enough. what i consider effort is easily brushed off by achievements of others. i'm trying, and i feel like i'm dying a little more inside with every step i take. i've never questioned myself this far before. what am i exactly? provoking thoughts that should never be awakened, all that i know now is there is absolutely nothing on me. fragile, that is all. identity, none. what is truly mine, nil. everything, every single thing, even this words that string to sentences are not mine in the end. the idea is not mine. everything's from somewhere else. what is mine then? what is my voice? i don't really have the strength anymore as doubt eats away my sanity. question, questioning, questioned but there's no answer. find my own answer. an answer that will ultimately not be mine. what is, then, my purpose right here, as i attend these classes and write what will supposedly secure my life later on? how will i go, what will i do? i throw my concern to now because of my future. i throw my concern to the future only to be afraid of the unrevealed path. if i had an aim, a goal to work to. an aim i'd embrace, a goal i'd cherish upon achieving, tell me that i will work for it. my passivity lives. looking for someone to pull me up, but sorry, the person will not exist. i'm weak, and would probably die because of how indecisive the society around me is. you want me to be this, you want me to be that, but can you do it yourself? or are you simply forcing me to become what you couldn't be? the illusion of a free will is shattering. beyond these glasses, all i find are shackles. they tell you, be true to yourself, but at the same time, keep you bound. this illusion, destroy it. don't give hope and happiness if it's only going to be destroyed