When did life matter

When... did life matter. Why did it matter to me? Somehow, somewhere, sometime; it really mattered. I'm not exactly sure when it did or why it did. I just knew it mattered. Someone or something mattered so much that it made me care about life. I'm not sure when it all fell off, but I'm sure as he'll it took a dip. I dipped my foot into the sea, and down down down I fell deep within the trench of Mariana. Tied foot by foot, anchor by anchor. From a place I could no longer dream of escaping. A place so suffocating, so submerging, so... depressing. But in a way, it's liberating. A liberating feeling of being suffocated and down within my thoughts. The feeling of thinking only enduring a larger migraine. Induced by stress my head pounds harder and harder, my heart throbs faster and faster. My mind, finally gives out and gives way to the liberation of that migraine; the liberation of that throbbing in my chest, feeling like I'm going a mile a minute until my chest implodes. Tears flow down my face from this sensation that I've not felt in what feels to be decades. This sensation that I know believe to be liberation. Liberation from the dependence of praise from another mouth, that toxic "good job" or that "I'm so proud of you!" The feeling of having that be liberated from my mind. Myself becoming mine own person. My own personality. Not some dumb front I put on in order to recieve praise, words of consolation, or validation. A new mindset with new ideals, new inspirations, and a new moral compass. I'm the end, I myself am a better person, true to myself, and not seeking the praise of others. Although I thought to myself; "when did life really even matter."