The odds were always against her

She often got the urge to scream and shout, the urge to be angry at God and to curse the day she was born. She felt she could not do a single thing right in this world so filled with judging eyes. Why had they taken from her the only thing that felt right and home to her? Was it punishment for what was in her mind? Was it punishment for all those times she couldn't play along? Yet the punishments refused to end they haunted her at night with mares of life as it could be, they haunted during the days with passing memories of how things used to be. She found not her sanctuary in the places where they used to be. Not a word spoken by another had helped and she had not felt she could speak her words to another. She carried on down a road so steep she felt as though she were falling. Her dreams were nothing more than pleas at god, her hopes nothing more than the cries of a pessimist. She felt not sadness at her loss but neither did she feel happiness at her gains, she felt nothing. Only longing. She loved not another for she didn't know how. She hated not but one, realising it was too late to ever feel anything but hatred for this one. She forgave all but him for being the devil in her reality. She was tired of living sometimes but wasn't ready for death, if she could merely not have existed. She wished she could stop falling and feel the grass again then she would walk away from it all and live again.