What does it mean
When my breathing hastens to quick desperate spurts
What does it mean
When my heart engorges with terrified anxiety
What does it mean
When I feel so utterly helpless
My eyes fried from hours of entertainment, journeys of heroes and salvation
All the stories I’ve been told where the brave man perseveres through anguish and strife
Yet not all heroes virtuous, flawed as I am and just as helpless at times
In the end, they are always saved, rescued by powers above them
But for me to depend on powers above myself, I feel so selfish
Who am I to deserve the attention and aid where it can be better spent on those who help themselves better
Those who stand themselves up and avoid travesty before it befalls them
The wise who stand tall where my knees buckle, and face righteously at the perils which intimidate my weak mettle
Other endings include heroes whose cunning or hidden strength prevails
Yet I feel exhausted, my melancholy tears bear no fruit towards further courage
No skills to boast or helpful traits to fall back on, just a mind bottled in with emotions of despair and gloom; shaken periodically for good measure
There also exists interlocking stories, where answers lie in the unity of friends, a jovial resolution where people create happiness together
Pride and embarrassment prevent me from a similar fate, as it is not in my interests to bring a wretched mind to the feet of my humble friends
Tainting their bliss and tarnishing the image of myself in their eyes, all sullied over a dejected mentality which may not be purified by their hands
Should Darwin’s theory prove true and I be trampled among the ill-equipped to excel in such an unfair reality, I’d be satisfied in knowing that I fulfilled my mission
To be beaten down and erased for the sole purpose of proving that the inferior cannot survive, to that point I would at least have served some use
Right now in limbo, where I must decide what kind of story my life defines, existentialism besets my feeble pathetic mind
Others live their stories, miles and oceans away, struggling through hardships infinitely more terrible
Here I whine and sob at the follies of my character and injustices I cannot control, acting as though the weight of the world were ****** upon my shoulders
Burdens weigh what they shall affect of a person, issues ranging from ant-hills or mountains, snowballs or avalanches, rain drops or tempests
However, I am cursed with a worrying disposition which magnifies my feeling of horror and desperation
Then the question remains
What does it mean
When I find myself, face in pillow, hoping to be clumsily pranced along to the next scene in my life like a miserable marionette
What does it mean
When I disappoint the people in my life, and have to bear the weight of their sunken faces
What does it mean
When I pretend everything will collapse upon me just because things haven’t gone my way
What does it mean
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
What does it mean
When my breathing hastens to quick desperate spurts
What does it mean
When my heart engorges with terrified anxiety
What does it mean
When I feel so utterly helpless
My eyes fried from hours of entertainment, journeys of heroes and salvation
All the stories I’ve been told where the brave man perseveres through anguish and strife
Yet not all heroes virtuous, flawed as I am and just as helpless at times
In the end, they are always saved, rescued by powers above them
But for me to depend on powers above myself, I feel so selfish
Who am I to deserve the attention and aid where it can be better spent on those who help themselves better
Those who stand themselves up and avoid travesty before it befalls them
The wise who stand tall where my knees buckle, and face righteously at the perils which intimidate my weak mettle
Other endings include heroes whose cunning or hidden strength prevails
Yet I feel exhausted, my melancholy tears bear no fruit towards further courage
No skills to boast or helpful traits to fall back on, just a mind bottled in with emotions of despair and gloom; shaken periodically for good measure
There also exists interlocking stories, where answers lie in the unity of friends, a jovial resolution where people create happiness together
Pride and embarrassment prevent me from a similar fate, as it is not in my interests to bring a wretched mind to the feet of my humble friends
Tainting their bliss and tarnishing the image of myself in their eyes, all sullied over a dejected mentality which may not be purified by their hands
Should Darwin’s theory prove true and I be trampled among the ill-equipped to excel in such an unfair reality, I’d be satisfied in knowing that I fulfilled my mission
To be beaten down and erased for the sole purpose of proving that the inferior cannot survive, to that point I would at least have served some use
Right now in limbo, where I must decide what kind of story my life defines, existentialism besets my feeble pathetic mind
Others live their stories, miles and oceans away, struggling through hardships infinitely more terrible
Here I whine and sob at the follies of my character and injustices I cannot control, acting as though the weight of the world were ****** upon my shoulders
Burdens weigh what they shall affect of a person, issues ranging from ant-hills or mountains, snowballs or avalanches, rain drops or tempests
However, I am cursed with a worrying disposition which magnifies my feeling of horror and desperation
Then the question remains
What does it mean
When I find myself, face in pillow, hoping to be clumsily pranced along to the next scene in my life like a miserable marionette
What does it mean
When I disappoint the people in my life, and have to bear the weight of their sunken faces
What does it mean
When I pretend everything will collapse upon me just because things haven’t gone my way
What does it mean
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