Depressed? So am I.

Everybody has a story

Everybody has a story. Some stories get told, others don't. Some people tell their own stories, some tell the stories of others. Some tell fairy tales and stories of happy heroes with happy endings.

But life is not all fairytales and happy  heroes, because, let's face it: fairytales are just myths, and most heroes never end up happy.

You can be your own hero, but you'll never be truly happy as long as you're alone. You'll need someone else to come and save you, to be your hero.

And that will be someone's story- the story of an unhappy hero. And that's where their journey begins. And they'll search, and they'll  search, and they'll  search for their perfect hero- someone who cares enough to dedicate themselves to be their savior, their knight in shining armor. 

But the knight in shining armor needs a hero, too. And that person can't be that hero, because they can't fix them. They don't have the blueprints for a wholesome person, because all they've  ever been is broken.

It's all they've  ever known.

And so no one gets to be a happy hero. And they're  stuck again. And they're  so, so lonely. And they don't know how not to be lonely, because

It's all they've  ever known.

And so they are their own hero. And in their eyes, they're  the last one standing. There's nobody else, and they're  in their own world. And it's the story of their world. And no matter what they do or make, they can never find a hero for themselves. 

And soon, their world starts to crumble. Everything falls apart before them, and all they do is watch- all they can do is watch. Because there's no one for them to save. And there's no one to save them. 

And slowly, the ruins begin to fade. Their entire universe, anything that might've meant everything to them, and they can't save it. Because it's already floating away in wisps.

And then, there's nothing supporting them. They're  holding nothing and no one because there's nothing and no one for them to hold. The ground vanishes from beneath them, and they're falling. There's nothing they can do and they  can't see anything because there's nothing there.

But your story won't end, because you're the last one standing. Time passes by, but there's no way you can tell. And you want it to end. You want it to end so badly, because you're done being your own hero. 

And you're tired. You're so, so tired of calling for help and looking for a hero. You're done trying to be saved. And so you sleep, and sleep, and sleep, because you can't wake up. And you feel yourself coming apart, you no longer have a body. And you fade.

And now there's nothing left. And it's the end of your story, but nobody ever hears it. Because nobody's there to hear it, nobody's there to remember you.

And that's a story that was never told. It's the story of a hero, although the hero needed saving and there was nobody to save it. That's often what happens to heroes who help other people. They save everybody, but there's no one to save them. 

And so when there's nothing left of that hero, there is no one to save everyone. And it's the end of all of their stories, though the hero's was the only one that was told. It, too, was forgotten.

We all have a story that will never be told. We can pretend it's been told, but we'll be carrying around the wrong story- you'll be carrying a story that's not yours.

So carry your story on your shoulders and tell it to everything below the heavens. If you come across hell, know that it isn't the end of your story. Your story doesn't end until you've done what you were meant to do. You're not the last one standing, not yet. And there's still a chance you can find your hero, because your story hasn't ended yet.

And yes, some stories don't have heroes. Some stories are filled with death and despair throughout. But it's not just the death, it's not just the despair. Even through all of that, you can find a way out. There's always a way out. You're never doomed until you're the last one standing.

And some people don't need a hero. They can be happy people, ignore the fact that they're alone, that they're the last ones standing. Ignorance is bliss, and all any of us really wants is to be happy, to have a happy story, or at least a happy ending. And those people- they're all any of us try to be.

But the rest of us- its harder for us. It's not as easy to pretend. So we can't be happy. We can't have a happy story. We can't ignore the way things really are. And so we begin to hate. We start to hate everyone who pretends, for being able to disregard all of the disturbing, unhappy things in the world- for being able to disregard us. 

But for those of you who can pretend, enjoy it while you still can. Because even if your story is a happy one, it still has to end. Tell your story to the children, fill them with hope so they strive for happiness, not straight A's. Spread the happiness, because there isn't much of it. You might turn someone's story around, give them a happy story. And that's really all anyone wants.