Lost

His death affected me in ways I wish it did not. Yet it was not really his death which caused all of it. Now to think of it, it was probably not linked at all.

I don't know. Sometimes I wish it had been me because I feel so worthless. I really do not understand why it is him. Maybe there is no why, is there? Maybe he died because he has done what he was needed to do in his life. Maybe he was meant to die to teach others more about themselves. Is it not ironic that people are not appreciated when they are living and only make the most impact when they're dead?

I do not think I want to die yet but I do not know how to carry on living. Been scraping self-esteem, hope, thought, beliefs from all over the place, barely enough to survive on, pushing me to do not my best but something, anything. I know there is a huge reserve inside of me, but I can't seem to reach it.

I'm completely lost.