Endless Monotony

I think I'm fading away. 

Each passing day takes a little piece of my soul, a little smattering of stardust from which I was created just floats back to space. A piece I'll never get back again. 

My life is no longer my own. 

I live for others. I live for the children that weren't meant for me, but are mine. I live for them though their father​, my brother, makes it blatantly clear that no matter how I care for them they will never be mine. I live for my sick mother who holds onto life with bloodied fingers, just clawing to stay alive and sometimes I fear I'll let go too just from the weight of holding her up. Of holding the children up. Of holding my dead beat brother up. 

My life no longer feels purposeful. 

The harder I try, the worse it all becomes. Maybe, just maybe, if I weren't alive, it'd be easier on us all.