An Ending?

I'm lost in life.
Passed up by the times, by all the people who care less.
I don't know when, but something got into my mind.
It was there, as it had always been.
I never looked at it this way, as I was now.
I put it over myself, just thinking.
I noticed it wasn't working, so I closed it off.
Almost immediately, I started feeling it, that little bit less that I needed. Every breath caused my thoughts to wonder if it would be my last.
I got scared, and started feeling weak,
I pulled it off quickly, and teared it to shreds, so I could no do it again.
I don't know what had come into my mind.
I didn't plan it, it was more of an instinct.
Now that I look back, it was fun, but the thought of trying it again, makes my breath go shallow, and my heart slow a little,
But, that's a part of my life, now.

After The End

There I was,
Just me and the stars,
Although we were a million miles apart,
I thought I was right there with one.
I looked around, and vividly saw all,
Every single one, of my memories.
I looked up,
To see blackness,
With red and blue lights.
I looked down, to not see the ground,
But moreover to see where I had been,
Earth.
I suddenly, well, almost suddenly,
God scared.
I walked. Not forward,
Backwards,
Or to the side,
But nowhere.
As I walked, I met people,
They introduced themselves,
And I myself.
They just laughed,
And walked on.
After this happening several times,
I ran.
I was running up,
Yet I was still standing.
Then, there was my long lost friend.
I started talking to him,
Yet he knew for who not I was.
As I introduced myself,
He vanished.
I looked up again, to see the lights,
But they were not there.
I looked down, to see the grass,
Where I had left Earth from.
I looked at myself,
And I was different.
Then, I slowly,
Ever so slowly,
Fell over.
As the bullet went through my brain,
Causing massive damage,
I saw the blue and red lights again,
And all my memories.

Purpose

Life is hard,
I am weak.

I've done nothing,
And succeeded.
I do something,
And fail.

I thought for the first time,
That my life's purpose was over;
I had accomplished what I was put here to do,
Whatever it was.

But I shall not kill myself,
If God wants me dead,
He will have to kill me himself,
And take the blood on His hands.

I have no purpose,
And one cannot create one.
So I shall die at the end,
Having spend the majority of my life seeking what I've wanted.

You will die also,
But having spent your life doing what God wanted you to.

Why do I want to live in a world,
That is full of hatred?
That is slowly committing suicide?
Why do I want to live in a country,
That is full of stupidity?
That is full of troubles?
Why do I want to live in a state,
That is hurting itself?
That is full of problems?
Why do I want to act,
In a play full of fun?
In a play that takes my time?
Why do I want to love,
In a time that the world could do without?
During a time that values are messed up?
But if I ask all this,
I have to ask,
Why live life?