For years this single question had haunted me as no other. I had thought on this long and hard. At my best moments it was there in the back of my mind. When i was at my worse it was screaming out my mouth into the moon lit sky of night.
As the years went by, so grew anger at myself for not fitting in with the world around me The question's weight grew as well. My mind would drift to suicide as my anger turned to pain.
And the pain in my darkening soul demanded release in some fashion. Fearing I would hurt other who did not need to taste the pain I felt, I lashed out on myself.
So the question of 'why am I here?, was soon followed with the thud of my head finding it's mark. I discovered how to inflict undiscrible pain on myself with no visible marks.
Time passes. Anger wains. Pain goes num, but still I was haunted. The anwer I sought was still so distant.
Then all of my pain came to head one Sunday afternoon. And for the first time in my life, I did not surrender to it.
I fought my pain, it no longer dominates me. Most of the wounds that covered my soul have scared over. And for the first, in a very long time I stopped asking; why am i here?
Then without even realizing it I found the anwser. So simple that I felt embarressed for not seeing it before.
WHY AM I HERE?
Because one night my father blew his load in my mother while they were fucking.