Tonight I'm Screaming out to the Stars/ I Think That He Owes Me a Favor

Is it really so freaking much to ask? To be useful, to have a purpose, or at least a goal? To not be forced into this measly existence by a corporate giant and a throng of bill collectors? Is it really such an unrealistic vision? To not dread waking up everyday and putting on that god-friggin-awful uniform just so I can leave my soul at the door and lie through my teeth for the sake of my job?

Every time the clock strikes midnight I think to myself "Well, you're one more day closer to death. Did you waste it?"

The answer, every day, is yes.

I know that You have more for me. I know that You know what's going on, why I'm here. So why won't You clue me in on whatever it is? Why am I still wading through this dismal state of being?

I refuse.

I refuse to waste my life. I refuse to waste my talents. I refuse to waste my intelligence. I refuse to waste my research. I refuse to waste my ability to love. I refuse to waste my influence.

I refuse.

I refuse to back down. I refuse to let go. I refuse to give up hope.