For weeks I spent,
This time amongst familiar faces I knew.
19 years and counting still,
Remembering the walls of the room,
I spent thinking about everything.
That familiar scent in the air,
From the make-shift ashtray I had filled.
Remembering the memories of friends,
Or so they seemed.
But I was glad, alone and happy
In the room, where nothing needed to be rational.
I could cry when I wanted to,
Smoke when it felt like,
And curse when it was needed.
But most of all I was alone.
They said it wont help me,
Locking myself In a cage of secrecy.
What else was there?
Should I have spent time around more of those who didn’t care?
And as I sit counting days for me to return,
Return to this familiar land.
The more I find myself longing for change,
Was it really helpful?
A look at the list of unanswered messages,
A recall of memories of humiliation and self centered proposals.
I made the right choice.
This is what I was meant for,
Staying in the dark utopia I had created.
My soul binded to the isolation I had created,
And I craved every minute of this.
Away from every lie,
Away from every urge for contact.
Just me in this isolation,
Absorbing me into madness.
And I loved every minute of it,
For that is my life,
One better than the lies and clichés I despised.