Caught Between The Light & The Shadow
Things that used to bring me so much joy are now hollow representations of who I used to be; of things I used to love. I feel a painful, chronic emptiness spreading through my chest. I look at the horrific mess my life has become and I struggle searching for meaning and answers as to how I arrived at this point in my life. There have been times when I've been abnormally narrow-minded, gliding along passively with turmoil and allowing major decisions to be made for me by others-others who don't love me or care about me. Maybe my passiveness is more than just a chronic mental fatigue (or laziness in a way) but also a chronic masochistic behaviour. And despite my persistence to myself and others that I am wholly content in the dark, I am not. Perhaps it's my need to not be seen as weak. My need to control everything around me, even when they are out of my control; another blood vessel feeding the tumour of my unhappiness. I wonder if I'll be able to let go. And what will happen if I'm unable to?
I'm caught between the light and the shadow. I just want to pack up and run again, but I can't, I need to complete the illusion before I once again disappear with the wind to parts unknown. I hold onto things, not because I'm a hoarder, but because I'm afraid to lose the memories, the positive emotions these things possess. I'm afraid that if I lose my memories of happiness, what it meant to be okay, then I'll never know what I'm struggling for. I won't have a blueprint or a goal anymore. For too long I've chased star-studded, photoshopped and highly colourised notions of happiness projected onto me by liars, thieves and con-men. It's all an illusion. Everything is an illusion. I struggle to make proper sense of the world around me. I've come to the point where I've stopped trying. I don't care. I don't care about the world because the world doesn't care about me. Why continue to give pieces of yourself away to those who don't want them or don't care about them?
I'm tired of making plans only to have them fall through; to be pushed aside for others that are liked more or for those deemed more important. Just once I want to be that special someone that's put first; called first or thought of first. I'm always a second or a last thought. I've grown too saddened by this to even try and attempt other forms of interaction.
I'm tired of making plans only to have them fall through; to be pushed aside for others that are liked more or for those deemed more important. Just once I want to be that special someone that's put first; called first or thought of first. I'm always a second or a last thought. I've grown too saddened by this to even try and attempt other forms of interaction.
Putting things into neat little boxes with labels is one way I cope with the chaos and instability both within me and around me. I'm bothered because if I lose that little bit of control I have around all my surroundings I feel like everything will fall apart. I like to have a clean workspace, don't get me wrong, it's just a constant struggle to hold onto everything. My anxiety over everything is so unreal. I feel my heart fluttering in my chest and my stomach tied in knots. The sick stomach feeling is becoming too much for me to handle; it's actually giving me the dry heaves. I have no idea what I can do about it. I drink to ease the physical sickness I feel, drinking until another physical sickness takes over me. At this point I don't care if these actions kill me, its worth it for the temporary relief I feel from the crushing agony of depression. Those who've never been this low will never understand why there are some of us willing to make this bargain.
I look forward to the morning where I won't wake up. I wonder what will happen when people realise what they've done. They probably won't react. It will be just another day. My death will be the same as my life; empty, worthless and invisible. There will be no mystery or enigma. It will not be any sort of news event nor will there be any memorial of any sort. Why would I want to give people one more chance to humiliate me and shame me? I've grown sick of vodka soaked truths, my sorrow spilling from me while those around me laugh taking it as some sort of joke. I reached out, told people, hoping that someone would say that they cared, that I somehow mattered and my telling of the truth was met with rejection, broken promises and complete devastation.
As Kurt Cobain once said, "When the lights out its less dangerous" but a part of me has to disagree. When the light goes out, doors of opportunity open. I've written some of my best work under the cover, the protection of the night, of the dark. The goal is to create something that sparks thought, that challenges people's worldview. Nothing is immortal, no matter how much we believe that we can create something that will never be forgotten. In time everything will fade away.
I look forward to the morning where I won't wake up. I wonder what will happen when people realise what they've done. They probably won't react. It will be just another day. My death will be the same as my life; empty, worthless and invisible. There will be no mystery or enigma. It will not be any sort of news event nor will there be any memorial of any sort. Why would I want to give people one more chance to humiliate me and shame me? I've grown sick of vodka soaked truths, my sorrow spilling from me while those around me laugh taking it as some sort of joke. I reached out, told people, hoping that someone would say that they cared, that I somehow mattered and my telling of the truth was met with rejection, broken promises and complete devastation.
As Kurt Cobain once said, "When the lights out its less dangerous" but a part of me has to disagree. When the light goes out, doors of opportunity open. I've written some of my best work under the cover, the protection of the night, of the dark. The goal is to create something that sparks thought, that challenges people's worldview. Nothing is immortal, no matter how much we believe that we can create something that will never be forgotten. In time everything will fade away.
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