Twelfth minute of a clueless birth

Trust me I'm depressed. Something terribly clinical about it. As it is five minutes more to go for my birthday, I cannot help crying. I miss my parents, not really. But I miss a point. I am missing something quite pointlessly. Then I look around and see the amount of people I have pushed away almost everybody. I give creepy hostile sad vibes. I sleep amongst the awake and I grunt amongst the cheerful. There is a point beyond which the body and mind feel short of control. It is automated. It's a clueless start to another year and the only thought coming to me is of being stuck in this same state of the heaviness of nothingness and listlessness and inability and forced half efforts. There has to be a way out. Someone needs helping. I can't even write. Probably I should wrap up the blog, wall in front of me.