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its like soul suicide

I feel the need to say something to someone

why am I not enough for myself?

who is it that needs to listen?

its some form of self inflicted torment

I unknowingly bring upon myself

my mind only knowns how to cause harm to itself

something inside me calls for something else

I'm never getting there

no matter what signs may come my way

I am hindered by my own lack of will

its been so long in the darkness

I've lost sight of everything

this is all I know

**** this existence

i don't know what I'm doing anymore

right now there is nothing. just meaninglessness. lost and dead.

the only thing keeping me breathing is to avoid more negativity

because i don't know, maybe hell really is a place

and not just that, I've always tasted it, I'm there in some ways

maybe death is a more exaggerated form of imagination

and my earthly presence is a bittersweet existence

maybe this is my mercy, for the lost and ******

we can only hurt our minds and soul

but given grace to have a primary state constricted by time and space

I can only assume at best my top priority is to purify myself

but how? no one can do this but me

I'm alone and isolated from the rest of you

yet taunted because we are what appears to be close

but it means nothing without connection

to me you and everyone else are just some ignorant drone

indulging in meaningless ********

your schooling, your work, family, friends.. your memories

will all fade and be swept away by the tides of time

who the **** are you? what are you?

we're dropped on this planet, ignorantly acting out

participating with the rest of existence, never questioning

when one day you might stop and wonder

we have no divine guidance, or intervention

we're on our own left to live out a meaningless existence

and perhaps it was better to keep our eyes closed

because I've caught myself in a trap of eternal melancholy

and I can never strip myself of the moment

its always here, my awake and aware is just painful

being quiet and observant of everyone and everything is useless

I have nothing to put in to anything here

and I feel guilt because I can't experience love or joy

to share my good feelings with someone

to have those things that make life worth living

maybe I can touch them but I can never own them for myself

I think others can, and perhaps they never once had to think of it

but I do, I think to a sick amount I don't even think I know because I've had so little contrast

contrast is what I need, if I ever experience pure joy again

only then can I see just how depressed and miserable and deprived I was

and then that itself brings me back down, because I mourn for myself

therefor any spit of hope or joy is always out of reach for me

the only thing that makes me feel okay is alcohol,

and thats just sometimes.

maybe its better to be an alcoholic than to be depressed

I don't understand why I lack the simple ability to make myself feel better

why I'm given no helping hand? no other soul can help because they could never know exactly what I'm experiencing.

therefor we have a disconnect.

this is why I'm isolated, so lost and bewildered

no one can see it

its so simple to hide, people are fools

this is why I crave so deeply so something unworldly

to be visited by some benevolent being of divine intelligence

to hold me, to look deep into me and for us both to just KNOW.

thats all I want. will I ever get that? i don't know,

I've heard stories, just stories. as much as it sounds wonderful I can't fully adopt someone else's faith because their experiences are not my own.

I've never had a real personal experience with God or entities or whatever you want to call it.

I've tried so hard I need to stop because I fear I'm making myself schizophrenic or something. there is no clear path to anything greater than whats here on Earth. I'm constantly questioning and I can't stop, I'm never getting an answer either, its painful and I'm just suffering every step along the way. Part of me has given up on life already. but I literally can't, I keep going on, still talking and moving when I'm prompted. I just feel like a machine with the only purpose to do things for other people. I'm really not all here, because I hate being here so much, my mind just wants to run away so bad. I kind of hate myself. I can't even look at myself in the mirror without feeling so much remorse. I want less and less to do with the outside world, I have nothing to give, and it has nothing to offer. It all feels like a bad dream I can never wake up from. I'm honestly just waiting until I die, I have many different ideas about what it could be after death, no matter how many times I read about it or hear the millions of people pledge their faith in some concept, I will just never ever know for sure, and that scares me. I already feel guilt for not living a good life, mostly for other people who are stuck with the fact they know me. my family are too good of people to let me go. I love them, and it makes me sad. If I had no one in my life maybe it would make things easier. no one to let down, no one to be a burden to, no guilt, no pain for failed relationships. I already feel a foreigner on this ugly planet stuck to deal with these elitist ****** who run the whole show. I'm not meant for this life or anything for that matter. maybe the best thing that could happen is for every fragment of a soul I might have to be scattered throughout the cosmos and be left unconscious. because being conscious is just a painful burden.

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Written by
alexander-montgomery-dawson
26 / M / American
Published
Jun 14, 2015
Lines·Words
71·1k
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