A roaring tide wax and wane
Sun eternal set and rise
Gazing upward find your place
All of time across the sky
Lost amongst the starry sea
Always searching ceaseless watch
Wish for purpose endlessly
Open mind abandon thought
Always searching for something
Into despair don't succumb
You are a being so small
The universe colossal
Yet look how far you have come
lots of 7s
So many thoughts feelings expressions emotions
locked behind deadpan eyes and a voice that's toneless.
A mountain of a person consolidated to this form.
A body unimpressive.
A face unexpressive.
The chaos upstairs requires all of my attention.
Conversing takes a back-seat which is why I seem distant.
Too many things to say only leaves me in silence.
I don't know how or where to begin.
If only I could let you inside to weather the storm
maybe you could make sense of this nonsense and bring me to port.
I feel so out-of-touch and small talk seems out of reach.
Are my thoughts worth airing? Maybe its better to not speak.
See, lately I've been thinking. More so than usual.
And its come to my attention that my attention is unusual.
I can't believe it took me this long to realize
just how egocentric I can be.
A fourth of my life is gone and its always been about me.
I know and acknowledge that you're a person too
but something has changed and I feel like I can't talk to you.
Where once it was effortless, now conversing is difficult.
Instead of truly listening I'm preparing my rebuttals.
It isn't that I don't care.
It isn't that I'm disinterested.
But it feels like my volume knobs got ****** up and I can barely listen.
Why is my head louder than reality?
It's exhausting to focus on anyone but me.
Truly a self-serving, self-centered friend I am.
You were so young when you died.
I didn't see it coming.
You would just sit there resting,
I remember the good times;
the movies we'd watch,
the television shows,
my secrets that you kept
from being exposed.
But now that you're gone you've left me in fits.
Now resting in pieces,
because I smashed you to bits.
R.I.P External HDD (2010-2016)
Its been a few months so its time to take stock
of where I am currently in my life-story's plot.
I'm at a place now where I'm staring to care
about politics, my appearance, and a lack of relationships.
Which is all new to me,
moving forward from a place of complete complacency.
A former strange acceptance of being alone.
No desire for interactions outside of my home.
Once committed to the idea that being single is ideal.
The foundations of which have started to crack and reveal
my own insecurities.
A lack of belief in myself.
Such poor self-esteem really affected my health.
But now its important to me to make new friends.
Even though its a new anxiety to cloud up my head.
I've been fighting addiction left right and center
and staving off urges to pop one and feel better.
If I could get my hands on it, it'd all be over.
Because anything is better than sitting here sober
dealing with an existential crisis, day after day.
Your own mental prison is difficult to escape.
I need an accomplice to help me break free.
But when you're a recluse that isn't a possibility.
And what is this inkling of vanity I feel?
I don't have to look at me so what's the big deal?
I've never been the type to try and impress
those that are shallow and judge how I dress
or my ****** hair choices.
I just want a beard.
But now I'm self conscious about how I appear.
Trim the beard to look less homeless.
Put on jeans so I don't look grotesque.
A whole new level of **** to fret about.
Acting my age really stresses me out.
It doesn't rhyme well, or flow nicely. But its accurate and that's the point.
With each passing week the world gets heavier.
Knees start to buckle underneath all the pressure.
Lost in crazy thoughts of death and self-destruction.
Only here out of a sense of guilt and obligation
to my family.
Because they deserve to be happy,
and they deserve better.
And the last time I tried I couldn't pull the ******* trigger.
I can't allow myself to leave my parents mourning
and so I sit and wait while the sand keeps on pouring.
I'm just turning pages until I finish the last chapter of this story.
Wake up at noon and back to bed by five.
Knuckles bloodied and sore to remind me I'm alive.
Hop in the car and start the long drive.
Destination irrelevant just need a clear mind.
Windows down, music loud, cherry burning bright.
Take a deep breath,
and watch the sun set,
as another day goes by.
Today was a short day.