Sitting, a half a million thoughts and they all lead back to this. A feeling of self-doubt/self-(de)value. Sitting, smoking, reveling in self hate. Sitting, staring blankly at nothing, feeling everything that was said, unspoken, imagined, twitched. It has never been easy to stare into the mirror and see what stares back at me. This disgusting, ruined face that has ruined everything. I want to destroy(mostly me.) Sitting, typing away meaningless words that create shit that goes unnoticed. You have your home and your best friend and your job and your cat. I sit here with nothing. Sitting, with nothing. You play your game, I’ll just idly sit and watch. I can’t watch you not watch me sit here in turmoil. No “Hey, you ok?” Sitting, keying away at something that I feel; something that in the end never told you anything. Sitting, reflecting that I was to verbose, tried to explain too much, said too much that wasn’t important. Sitting, choosing brevity.
Laying here, listening to the muffled sounds of some stereo playing for a party above me, I wonder if this feeling inside will ever change. Sweeping thoughts of languished history add to the terror of what I am slowly realizing to be true: never once in my life can I recall feeling apart of something meaningful except the one thing I pissed away all that time ago. Here I sit reflecting on all the choices I’ve made only to think to myself that I need to move forward, not back, forward.
It’s only a matter of time.
It will slowly get to you.
That lonely feeling rapping on the back of your brain.
Always there, hungry for more space.
An eager young wolf looking for new territory.
Waiting to slaughter something new.
It’s patient. More patient than you.
It will wear you down, wear you out.
Until there is nothing left but that thought.
And then that too is gone.
When things don’t go our way, we always revert back to our old selves. Shame that people cannot break this cycle whether it be because of apathy or pain. Redemption doesn’t come to those who, in a moment of weakness, stumble and fall. You say dependency, I say foolishness. How far have you really come if you go right back to where you were? Circumstances don’t matter. What matters is you never wanted to be better for you, and that is the sad reality of it. A fools paradise in the security of everything numb. Tragic.
Sinking, fading into an infernal abyss. Not struggling for air; complacent to suffocation.
Drown.
Drown.
Drown.
Drown.
Down.
Gone, forever.
Down, dying in nothingness.
With nothing but a smirk.
