Mar 14
Letters, voice memos, videos, pictures anything I can do to leave you memories of me before I embark on the next chapter of this journey.
No, I did not see the light at the end of the tunnel. Did not undertsand all the euphemisms about finding a reason, a will, amongst the inspirational posters hanging along the doctor's white walls.
My eardrums bleed, beg me to stop blaring music, pumping the booming bass directly into my brain because at least in those few moments the bad sounds dim. The voices battle against the rythmic, upbeat pop songs I play to drown out my current reality.
It's crazy, I seem to think, as I lay in bed again at night wishing more than anything that I could sink into the dark depths of the sheets and wake up the next morning a souless shell, because at least then I would not have the capacity to feel what I feel now.
I've tried to no avail to explain the claws of my subconcious that continue to pull at my feet, whispering sweet nothings into my ears, reminding me that the sweet release of a life not yet half lived is only mere moments away. The edge of the abyss always there, always towing the line between the "jokes" and intentions followed by actions followed by inevitable consequences.
What were once calls of help are now full blown battle crys. What were once outlandish thoughts are now full blown plans for the adjectives in my obituary.
See we all know how this movie ends, the sequels canceled due to budget cuts and a total lack of creative freedom, the story not yet finished and perhaps tucked back on a shelf in a pile of other manuscripts and news clippings of stories ended too soon.
It's crazy, the way that thoughts bounce through my brain, echoing along the walls of the chasm in my mind. The people I care for the most, long gone, the ones I know I've failed are far too deep into the great beyond for me to voice my apologies now.
Those who are left are the mere souless bodies, walking the face of this Earth pretending to love until their sense of obligation fades away. They've long sold their souls to whatever beings exist in the underworld in order to buy themselves their own ticket to surviving their tumultuous existence.
As the credits roll...I beg no one to ask themselves what they could have done differently. I beg no one to get introspective and challenge what brought us all to this conclusion.
Instead, I ask you what good is a story that has no ending? Were there in fact lessons to be learned along the way, or did we merely just waste each other's time? What good are memories if they all fade to black eventually.
Congrats on your participation trophy as a valued member of my life. When the bar was set so low, most of you still found a way to trip and tumble over it anyway.
The funny thing about the credits at the end of a movie is that...no one ever sticks around to see them. So let's not kid ourselves and pretend we've started caring about the plot now that the story's almost over. What were once main characters in this tale are now barely honorable mentions and who remains now but an old VHS tape in a box in the attic, destined and praying to be forgotten?
No, I did not see the light at the end of the tunnel. Did not undertsand all the euphemisms about finding a reason, a will, amongst the inspirational posters hanging along the doctor's white walls.
My eardrums bleed, beg me to stop blaring music, pumping the booming bass directly into my brain because at least in those few moments the bad sounds dim. The voices battle against the rythmic, upbeat pop songs I play to drown out my current reality.
It's crazy, I seem to think, as I lay in bed again at night wishing more than anything that I could sink into the dark depths of the sheets and wake up the next morning a souless shell, because at least then I would not have the capacity to feel what I feel now.
I've tried to no avail to explain the claws of my subconcious that continue to pull at my feet, whispering sweet nothings into my ears, reminding me that the sweet release of a life not yet half lived is only mere moments away. The edge of the abyss always there, always towing the line between the "jokes" and intentions followed by actions followed by inevitable consequences.
What were once calls of help are now full blown battle crys. What were once outlandish thoughts are now full blown plans for the adjectives in my obituary.
See we all know how this movie ends, the sequels canceled due to budget cuts and a total lack of creative freedom, the story not yet finished and perhaps tucked back on a shelf in a pile of other manuscripts and news clippings of stories ended too soon.
It's crazy, the way that thoughts bounce through my brain, echoing along the walls of the chasm in my mind. The people I care for the most, long gone, the ones I know I've failed are far too deep into the great beyond for me to voice my apologies now.
Those who are left are the mere souless bodies, walking the face of this Earth pretending to love until their sense of obligation fades away. They've long sold their souls to whatever beings exist in the underworld in order to buy themselves their own ticket to surviving their tumultuous existence.
As the credits roll...I beg no one to ask themselves what they could have done differently. I beg no one to get introspective and challenge what brought us all to this conclusion.
Instead, I ask you what good is a story that has no ending? Were there in fact lessons to be learned along the way, or did we merely just waste each other's time? What good are memories if they all fade to black eventually.
Congrats on your participation trophy as a valued member of my life. When the bar was set so low, most of you still found a way to trip and tumble over it anyway.
The funny thing about the credits at the end of a movie is that...no one ever sticks around to see them. So let's not kid ourselves and pretend we've started caring about the plot now that the story's almost over. What were once main characters in this tale are now barely honorable mentions and who remains now but an old VHS tape in a box in the attic, destined and praying to be forgotten?
These thoughts too shall pass
