Dear hope/saviour/soulmate

I hope that you exist.

I'm left alone, again, between freedom and a paranoid belief that gives me no dignity, no strength and  no ability of developing into myself. The life which I had in my hands,  safely wrapped by my fingers, can I never have back. I got tired of holding, and now it has floated all away, to the eternal seas of despair, the box of memories who prevent me from accepting what I have become. These tiny tastes of this past, which I often miss and adore, they do never remind me of the agony. Knowing that my feelings, body and brain eventually will stop cooperating, I give up life and ask myself if I really deserve the goods of it. Because the distance between the oases of hope are getting longer and longer as I walk the road of time. In the end, I am certain it will vanish, and I do not want to see that day. Give me a point to the right direction.

Sincerely
Me falling apart