Aug 2015
I have a confession. I feel empty.Like I've been struck down with the burden of keeping myself afloat as if I were in the middle of water.
What is this cruel fate?
When I sleep, it feels like purgatory. When I eat, it's my last meal. When I think of the things I've lost, no remorse and no regret of the past, just fear of the future.
But why? Why should I victimize myself when there's so much to be done? Why should I sting myself in the shoulder when I know the heart's the best place to ensure demise? Why should I consider myself lucky when I'm told bad news when I know it's only a matter of time before I'm next?
There's mo more thoughts in my brain that I can feel.
Tangible emotion.
I've lost it, I can't touch what I feel anymore. Love, ***, anger, sadness, death, abuse. All foreign to me as if I've not been an attempt of a guinea pig to each and every one of them.
I don't even know myself, even as I read these words, they look to be in another language, I can only see what I'm typing, I can't feel it.
Only.
I realize that though I'm not, I'm alone in this world, maybe not in number, but certainly in spirit and thought. I haven't an associate that I can speak frank to, and each relative has a certain speech with me: a certain voice and certain word usage. Some consider that to be fake, I consider it to be me.
But alas, I have lost my way on my path, my mind and soul now belong to the abyss that swirls uncontrollably spiraling downward, landing me face-down on the floor of endless falling.
Where am I? What am I? I guess when my decent is finished, I may finally find my answers in the pits of time, the pits of the beginning, the pits of my own creation...
The Pit of the abyss in my consciousness.
What is this cruel fate?
When I sleep, it feels like purgatory. When I eat, it's my last meal. When I think of the things I've lost, no remorse and no regret of the past, just fear of the future.
But why? Why should I victimize myself when there's so much to be done? Why should I sting myself in the shoulder when I know the heart's the best place to ensure demise? Why should I consider myself lucky when I'm told bad news when I know it's only a matter of time before I'm next?
There's mo more thoughts in my brain that I can feel.
Tangible emotion.
I've lost it, I can't touch what I feel anymore. Love, ***, anger, sadness, death, abuse. All foreign to me as if I've not been an attempt of a guinea pig to each and every one of them.
I don't even know myself, even as I read these words, they look to be in another language, I can only see what I'm typing, I can't feel it.
Only.
I realize that though I'm not, I'm alone in this world, maybe not in number, but certainly in spirit and thought. I haven't an associate that I can speak frank to, and each relative has a certain speech with me: a certain voice and certain word usage. Some consider that to be fake, I consider it to be me.
But alas, I have lost my way on my path, my mind and soul now belong to the abyss that swirls uncontrollably spiraling downward, landing me face-down on the floor of endless falling.
Where am I? What am I? I guess when my decent is finished, I may finally find my answers in the pits of time, the pits of the beginning, the pits of my own creation...
The Pit of the abyss in my consciousness.
Who am I to be told what and who I am? I shall not know, but what I do know is that everyday I grow emptier and emptier, dry like a plant in the sun too long, more useless than old bones and thrown out like the trash I accumulate. I don't know why I feel this way, but I just do.
