Putting up a brave face towards the world. Because it is expected. Because it makes one feel still somewhat in control. Because the alternative is to be a sobbing pile of misery.
Inside, one only feels turmoil and pain. Every moment another soldier of Hope is brutally slaughtered by the armies of Uncertainty, Frustration and Agony. There is nothing one can do about this conflict. Not without outside help. Where is this help? More uncertainty.
Uncertainty stretches on until far beyond the horizon. Maybe there is something better beyond the horizon? Maybe the path of Uncertainty will finally end there? Maybe. Maybe it will continue on forever. Forever, until things end in a brutal fashion. One keeps walking, even if every step feels like walking bare-foot on shards of glass.
One hears the cries of the other damned most clearly and painfully. A reminder that help isn't guaranteed to arrive. The voices of others are heard in the distance. Laughing voices. Ignorant voices. Useless voices.
Waiting for that one voice which tears apart these ashen skies, freeing one from this prison and unleashing one into a world of Certainty and Safety. Waiting for a miracle. It feels so very futile.
Easier to just take one's own life and unleash oneself into Certainty, even if it's the Certainty of Death. Still one keeps walking, as long as the tiny flame of Hope hasn't been fully extinguished yet.
Why can't all those happy voices help me? Why are they ignoring my suffering? Why don't I matter?
All hope extinguished.