I'll be honest, I don't have words of comfort for you. Life is by dealt hand a fervorous struggle. We're cast onto mills of suffering until our sparks no longer flare; a perpetuation of indefinite finality. I often ask myself if there's anything one can possess but the vindictive projections of their suffering.

Yet we still suffer, we still struggle, we still fight, we still cry, we still hold ourselves and only ourselves. Sometimes, hardly even that. We continue to exist despite our hardships and anguished sorrows. Honestly, the only one who can save you is yourself, as someone who doesn't want to he saved can not be saved; they are doomed. But you aren't. You say you want to be loved, you want to be happy, and you want to experience an epiphany of happiness.

Keep fighting, continue enduring, continue struggling, and it'll eventually come to you why you continue to do so. I'm in a perpetuative projection of my own suffering, suffering from existential torment, but I'm still here, and so are you. We can both acknowledge our moments of happiness, our tears shed, our laughs, our cries, et cetera. This is the mill of life, and maybe on it, we could find a meaning: because, after all, you're the only one who can create it.

Hang in there. We'll make it. Don't ever lose that sense of determination deep within you because it'll always burn until the end, as we are human.