What am I?
As I search for answers in the void of the unknown I find none of the conclusions I am looking for and begin to feel intolerable.
To myself.
To others.
People stray away from me like I am some sort of disease, yet are still talking about me as if I could never hurt them although we share occupancy within the same room.
I find excuses for their ignorance and continue on my way and I still begin to wonder if every encounter I ever had was in vain because I refused to poison them with my sense of independence.
What am I?
I control substances as well as I control myself. I become unsure on how to stop my self-abuse and it occurs to me that I may just be as ****** up as they say I am.
I may just be a reincarnate of a bundle of people who have ******* up everything they've ever had. I'll never know.
What am I?
As I sit in the darkest corner of the room with my head in my hands I contemplate the truth of the words that spew from other people's mouths like a plague of ***** deemed to destroy those who beg themselves every night to gather the strength to stick around for at least one more day.
What if I told you I was planning what could be the most creative ending yet? Whether my own or another's you'll never know... and I couldn't wait for you to see the star of the latest attraction in Life's circus on display.
I saved you all some oxygen, I hope it's to your liking.
What am I?
Well what have they always told me?
A dead end?
Disappointment?
Failure?
No. Something much worse.
Nothing.
I am nothing.
And we've all tried to make something out of nothing haven't we?
Didn't work very well did it?
Hi, my name is Nothing and this is the last breath you'll ever see me take.