Feelings come and go in irregular patterns. It's always most joyous. When I have my flat affect. Something very hard. To read into. Some very cold fish.
I thought that. Maybe. I'd connected again. To something greater that's outside myself who's existence was so poignant that I stopped for one moment to appreciate an honest true feeling or original thought that advanced both our understanding of ourselves through our shared humanity. But, You just wanted to **** me.
She sings me songs. In that southern twang. And, I can't remember where I'm from. Cause I'm trying to focus on right now. With her. And that shrill trail. Of her voice.
All the things I've never done. Have just passed me by. Nothing lost. Nothing gained. Just too high hopes. Too many disappointments. As long as I breathe. I succeed at life.
The pine trees sag. Cushioned in the oh so very warm comfort. Of the freshly fallen snow. And, I walk. Along the banks of a half frozen river. Idolizing my isolation. Engulfed in a familiar cold. That I can bear. For such a view.
There are no troubling. Thoughts. In the emptiness. Of another couple tranquilizers. Far more than I could have taken. But, how else do I feel like. Drowning. While I'm awake. Other than being consumed. By chemical apathy.
I would rather be. Some beautiful something. That dies. Fragile. In some by and by. Never known. By anyone. The hyperbolic tragedy. That will be. The rest. Of my life.
After enough letdowns. You give up. Cause all your hopes ever give you. Is a bad feeling. And, fatalistic destinies. Which in itself. Is always. Worthless.
I never wanted to play. Nice. With the other kids. I just. Wanted to be alone. Now. I just wanna. Recede on back into that nothingness. I know so well. My good friend. Cushioned in silence. Drifting by myself.
I try to remember. That in the grand scheme. Of things. I have never been more. Than an utter failure. Who managed to live longer. Than he should have.
Ain't no rockbottom. When. There's no where to fall to. Floating. So far out in. Space.
And, I've been a loser. Since I can remember. With nowhere to go.
Nothing changes. Nothing's really the matter. Just. Today. Like yesterday's tomorrow.
Another side note. In my personal diary. Of it doesn't matter. Never did.
I just want swim until death takes me. In the seas of forgetfulness. Subsumed beneath the waves. Adrift in a current. That moves forward. While I'm left behind. Cushioned in my isolation.