I seem to be past caring.

Caring uses up too much energy, be it a person, a life, a memory or a thing.

Caring uses up too much energy, and energy is something i dont have.

This restlessness, this sense of foreboding towards the future, i can find no reason, i can find no cure.

It seeps through my skin, runs with my blood, breathes as i breathe.

I feel its feeble heartbeat, challenging mine, and I am too weak to resist.

Depression, without cause.

This life is too normal, too plain, no different with the thousands of lives living around me.

I ask questions even though there are no answers.

I am afraid. If i ever stopped, will i be just one in a billion, faceless, meaningless.

Yet even as I seek for something that cannot be found, I am no different, am i not?

When I finally leave, what can I leave behind other than footprints that have been marked by millions before me and will continue to be followed by millions more after me?

Not everything exist for a reason, no matter who thinks otherwise.

So here comes the unanswerable question.

" Why am I here?"