What is to become of me? I don't see anything anymore. It is all some blur, distorting itself more as I attempt to make out the picture.
Perhaps that is how life is suppose to progress for me? Not knowing a damn thing. I don't think I enjoy my life floating by at a low opacity.
All I do anymore is daydream of things I could have had, things I want to try... people I want to taste. Words I want to slip from my lips. Violent forces between me and the anger that swells in my chest. Strange, exotic... different. The same thing day in and out is killing me. I don't want to sit here in an imaginary world. It is turning me into a monster, slowly creating a gnarly, knotted legend the children of the town whisper under their blanket tents. Describing a beautiful princess who was cursed one day then turned into a wicked witch who eats people who trespass in her yard. The sad part, most of these monsters are lonely people who have rot from inside out... is that what I am going to become? I feel my bones ache with sadness... but do I create it...? Classic "grass is greener."
I want to taste the sweat of a labor new, and inhale the sweet sounds of admiration. No amount of pain, masks the pain... I can't do it all alone. I can't dodge oncoming traffic forever... one day I am going to slip. What happens when I don't care anymore... just give up on ever amounting to anything... just give up on the few dreams I hold dear? I don't think my life is going to be as long and painless as most people... It makes my soul ache so. To be so young and hurt so much.
Maybe I just need to let it all go... how I do in my dreams. Uncontrollable sobbing that chokes my every word. I can't breath and I can't speak. Spastic gasping and words so drowned all I can do is bury my face. How can such heartache carry over from subconscious to reality? So strange, I am, I hear those whispers... someone watching me... whoever is watching is laughing. Nice trick you pulled there, imaginary friend watching over me, almost had me fooled. My life isn't empty without you... another middle aged white man to entrust my future too... no thanks. There are plenty of those I can prove exist. I have myself. I have what is floating in my odd little head.
I want everything, but carry the weight of everything on my shoulders, someday I will collapse finally. Will I survive it. Or slowly die as I gasp for air?
Or do I create it? Perhaps somewhere in there I like my misery. Isn't that human?
I just want to be the one taken care of... that is all I have wanted. I have been the one to carry everyone across their rapid rivers. I don't know how much longer I can keep this strength up. It isn't my head... it isn't my body... no synthetic chemical can fix this... I am worn to the bone and all I want is the same in return.
This knot in my chest... this ache in my brain... I just want a rest. I just want to be going somewhere... wandering the darkness is just so... cliche. Who the fuck decided my life had to be fucked?
I just wish I had the desire, strength and willpower to do something about it. Fucking glass being half empty... Fucking mask... Fucking immune system... fucking money... fucking life...
I will just continue to dream? But really... "who is that girl I see? Why is my reflection someone I don't know?" Really... I have broken my own heart by giving up.
v-v
