Am I the end?

I want so desperately for me to be the end of sadness in this society. After all of the pain I've struggled through, I don't think anyone deserves to live like I do. Not one single person in this life deserves to suffer through the pain of losing someone. Not one single person in this universe deserves to suffer through the pain of having your first love, first kiss, first everything, be snatched away by complacency and greed.

There have been nights of pleasure and passion, and laughter, bliss, and ease; I will spare you that notion. Although I won't remember these nights in their entirety, due to my nights of pain and anger, they still exist, or at least existed at one point. It's much like that philosophical question, "if a tree falls in a forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?" If I don't remember something, who's to say it actually happened?

Too many a night I have spent wasting my lungs and my heart and my blood. Even my joy is coated with blackness, with tar, with selfish relief that comes with being a lost teenager. I have spent too many nights wasting myself away, wasting my life away.

I have spent too many nights curled up in a small corner of my room, surrounded by walls of plaster and tears, walls that press further into me with each passing day. I have spent too many nights crying myself into a fit of rage, such that I don't return until the next day. I have spent too many nights with my face contorted with the anguish of sorrow. I have spent too many nights wishing the nights like this would end. Well, my friend, they end with me.