Climbing This Mountain

I'm climbing this mountain built out of past despair and regret. My tears stain the surface of cold-hard rock made out of razor sharp emotions which cut me to my core. I continue to climb because somehow I know holding my head up high will make me stronger in the end. As opposed to wallowing and idling on the side of the mountain in the past, I now continue to go upwards, towards whatever my destiny might be.

People like (censored) keep pulling me down. They just keep doing things which hurt me and make me think I have no one else in the world. Of my only few friends (censored) has really hurt me the most. I look forward to spending time with them and having fun with them but then they do something which hurts my feelings. But I don't stop to cry. I keep climbing the mountain.

That's not to say I don't cry. Crying makes the surface of the mountain slippery and hard to manage. I have to be extra careful when I'm crying because I might slip and fall down to a part of the mountain I've already climbed, and that wouldn't be making progress. I view this process as climbing a mountain because it can be seen as a struggle. I keep pushing myself, though, wondering if I'll reach the top or break down first.

This awful feeling in the pit of my chest - somewhere where my heart probably resides - feels absolutely dreadful. It feels like it has been betrayed and stabbed in the back. I suppose that's partially my fault for becoming so attached to people and allowing them to do so. Still, the sentimental feelings I innately possess towards all people close to me remains. I don't think I can ever let that go, and thus I feel I will always be vulnerable to attack. Since I have no harness to stop me from falling off the mountain, I must become good at catching myself before I lose my grip.

I keep moving upwards. Day after day. My arms are burning and my legs feel like they are on fire. But I can't stop climbing. I can't rest or I won't be making progress. I can't stop walking. I must keep looking straight forward, with my head level. I must envision whatever it is at the top of that mountain, and attempt to reach it to the best of my ability.

I'm tired of the fight. I'm tired of the struggle. If I don't keep climbing I'm just going to idle on this mountain, which will slowly drain my energy. If I let go I will never be able to get back up this far again. If I keep going I might just reach the end. Continuing this journey however is the most painful. Perhaps living is the most painful thing a person ever does, as well as the most enjoyable. Life itself can be seen as the best and worst thing - since it is one. Left on my own I'm confident I could reach the top. Some part of me doesn't want to be alone at the top, though. So I let others like (censored) join me, but who in the end were only trying to step on my head and get just a little further ahead of me.

I'm never going to fall down, though. Even moments before my death my hand will be gripping to whatever part of that mountain I've managed to reach. I may not make it to the top of this mountain. I may not even make it half way. But I'll be damned if I'm going to stop, or give up. It may make me as emotionally hard as the rock that I'm climbing, and it very well may cause me more despair than I currently possess, but either way I'm not going to stop.

I'm going to see the top of this mountain.

Even if it kills me.