In my beginning some thing created this purposeless mess that stands before you
Knowing my best would never be enough and still pushed me through like some kind of fuuck you
To who?
To the future me, to the tragedy I'd become ultimately?
That's a ridiculously high baggage fee
Especially for baggage bestowed upon me
If there's nothing he can't do then none of this is how it had to be
But nooooo,
He had to go and put in that god ****** fruit tree

©2024

crying out for help
just for no one to hear
leads me to think
dying out of despair
would have no one care

Purposelessness is a slow inferno.

You know you are not dying the next second, but the theatrical capabilities of your mind projecting the potential failure future kills you.

In fact, worse, it doesnt let you live.

It’s so weird... discovering how fragile ones mentality is...I have always expressed that it’s ok to need to live for something else when you can’t find the ability to live for yourself. So you do your best to build stability and optimism all while you feel like you are shattering one crack at a time.  So what were to happen if what you are living for is jeopardized? Would you break completely or simply find something else to live for? What if it was the ONLY thing that you could live for in that moment? At times when I cannot bare to live for myself I live for my plants. They would not survive without me therefore I must keep going or they would not make it. The problem for living for something that’s alive is what would happen if that thing were to die? If the petals were to wilt and the stems drop and the flowers fade? What happens when your life has crashed and imploded at catastrophic proportions and the only thing to survive the disaster turns out to be dying? When every thing is going wrong and you are shattering one crack at a time and all you can live for are your plants then a massive crack splits you into a thousand little pieces and the only thing holding you together has began to shrivel along with your mentality. What am I to do now?

I came, or was ******
Into the world
A half formed thing
I have limped through life
The waters of the universe
Slip through my fingers
I cannot cup my left hand
To catch the falling stars
Nor have I, all my brain
With which to comprehend
The nothing, that is our existence
I have existed, set back
Striving, for chances
To be, the same
I have thrown away
Gold gilt books, of wisdom
And sweet fruits of life
To follow others, to rot
And ruination, to be in company
To feel normal, and be not alone