An argument that happens in my head

I want to know the answer, I want to know the truth.
There is no single answer, there’s nothing that can soothe.
What wrongs have I committed, then? What crimes have cracked me through?
No sins, no debts, no wrongs, there’s nothing to review.
So everything’s done right? I’m perfect as I am?
No single man is perfect, but you’re human, or I’ll be damned.
Then why do bad things happen?
You’re not at fault, my dear. The worst happens to all, year after year after year.
There’s nothing here to fix it, there’s nothing to refine.
Bad things happen, as they happen, time after time after time.

That’s not fair.
Life isn’t fair. And I’m aware of the cliché—
Keep on living, as you’re living, every single day.
The sunlight, the moon, the warm and happy, too,
They’ll keep you going, as you’re going, through and through and through.

It’s not enough.
That’s not enough?
No. It’s not enough to live,
It’s not enough to breathe, to beat, to strive, to try, to give,
I’ve nothing here left over, my mind is broken clean,
I can’t keep going, I’m tired, I want to die, to leave.
I’m sorry that you feel that way, and I’m sorry you feel done
There’s nothing you can do except keep rising, like the sun.
You must live for happy moments, you must keep your loved ones close,
And then, when you’re old and happy, only then can you repose.

I can’t live with myself that long.
Why not? What’s wrong with that?
All I am is nothing, all I am is fact.
I’m a name on a piece of paper, or a sound when I walk in the room.
I’m a trivial group of atoms, I’m nothing, I’m not you.
I’m not upbeat and determined, I’m not inspired and free
All I want, all I am, is to be something other than me.
You can’t be someone else, my love.
Why not? I’ve been given steps.
I’ve been given hatred, doubt, debt, even violence, nothing else.
I’ve been given clarity in one thing, and that thing is only this:
I hate my wretched body. I want to change until it fits.
I don’t know what to say.
You don’t? It seems they never do.
There’s nothing to be said, there’s nothing to construe.
I’m stuck in this infinity, until the end of time,
I’m stuck to hope and wonder what I did wrong, in rhyme.