Credit my weak heart and strong mind, to that bad circumstance and that terrible time.

mum raised us well. did everything she possibly could to make sure that we were okay. being a single parent all on your own with three kids.. you haven't even hit thirty yet, life is tough as it is. she definitely didn't have the hardest life but by no means the easiest either. she's lived a pretty alright life. why is it then, that i can't seem to do the same. i can't seem to find out what it is that's killing me inside. from the inside out. i wish i could fight this off but i don't know what it is. it's this resentment. this frustration.. because of what or who though? i don't understand. i don't understand how i can love someone i've never even met before. how i can love her more than i have ever loved just about anyone else. i don't understand how my sister can really think that fighting solves everything. ...i guess i think that as well. the difference is that i fight myself. i fight myself because i dont know what it is i'm looking for. my older sister is doing a damn good job at living her life. sure, she's in the military and i highly doubt that's an easy thing, but she seems happy.. overall. my younger sister feels most comfortable around her friends. around kids her age. my mum has 'god'. where does that leave me? i hate the people around me, i don't believe in her god. it's so frustrating to feel like you don't belong anywhere. to feel like you were almost a mistake. wasn't everyone? i wish i knew what it was that i was supposed to be looking for. it would make this life much easier. but i guess i'm asking for
way too much. sometimes i feel like i grew up too soon. i remember when i was about seven, my sister said she had to take her friend to the doctor. i tagged along because i wasn't feeling well so i didn't go to school. we weren't allowed inside. i didn't understand why. this man approached me with a binder in his hands. he opened it up. i saw a slew of photos of women on beds, he kept saying that it was wrong. that what was going on inside was murder. later on, i found out that what was supposed to be a doctor's office was actually an abortion clinic. my sister felt guilty. im sure she still does. my family is pro-life. i am afraid to tell them i am not. im getting off track here, but the point is, how can you be so sure that what her friend did didn't save that child of so much more pain, of so much more fear, hatred, anger. how do you know? you don't. i guess that life is a kick in the ass no matter what. maybe no one on this earth ever really has a purpose. if that's the case, i guess nothing anyone ever does really matters. does life matter? do you matter? do i matter? this isn't making sense anymore.
it's just sentence fragments poorly strung together. i guess my point is... if this life is really worth living, i wish i could find what it is i'm looking for. what it is inside me that is set out to make a difference. i wish this life was a less confusing, easier rode. i wish i believed in wishes.