I don't know if anyone else will understand this, but it's the atrocious realities of the world - the pain and suffering that human beings inflict on one another, on the vulnerable, the abused, and the victimized - it's these things which make me question, more than anything else, whether I want to be here. Whether here is worth being.
That such atrocities are even conceivable, never mind actionable, carry such sadness and hopelessness for the future that my own insecurities and challenges are dwarfed by the fact that even if I manage to save myself, who is going to save me and the ones I love from the rest of what lies out there? I wonder some days whether life is worth living if even a part of it contains the capacity to allow such torment to exist. I feel strong enough today to weather it, but it's those other days, the ones where I can barely stand within my own skin, that this knowledge adds enough weight to steal my breath and bury me.