Got this in our inbox, and decided to post it.
You visited me in my dreams once again.
Sweeping me off my feet to a myriad of of color and sound, my heart skips a beat.
But I can’t take it.
I can no longer feel. I’ve lost control over every last emotion. I am devoid of feeling and of reason. I just know I don’t have much left.
I spend my days in a constant cycle of sleep and wake. A phantom of this current time and place.
I know the ending to this current story. Yet, I hurtle myself down the path towards failure. I’m a masochist because of one little mistake. Or would we call it a giant mistake? As I play with the heart strings. I toy with the mind.
I’m a broken record, a broken being.
Broken down without a sense of feeling.
I drink from the bottle; my new best friend. It numbs the pain, and fills the void. For once I can feel-- beyond the fire in my gut.
And then it is gone. And then I regret. I make a mistake and it eats me alive. I tear my soul to pieces, asking why. What could I change? What could I do different? Could I have said something to change your mind?
I sit here screaming to the music, the tears rolling down cheeks. I feel trapped. I can no longer breathe. I’m not who I want to be.
What happened to being free?
The hole keeps getting deeper.
What the fuck am I doing?
In the end, i’m only hurting myself.
Yet, now, I’ve found something I want.
At least what I think I want.
Decisions.. Oh they come crashing down. Like a waterfall. Like a hurricane. That summer storm that whips me up and throws me down.
I skate along another perfect circle, hoping the ice doesn't break. The freezing water of my conscience that I can't afford to break.
My mortality is all too clear as I take risks I hadn't taken before. As I take a brush with fate. Again and again.
But no regrets in the twisted learning process. I only form more wishes. And I keep thinking. Each thought beat into a tiny little pulp-- over analyzing each and every little detail. I think and I think and I think. With music blasting through my ears, I people watch. Each glance is an insight into a snippet of a story.
And I wonder.
What story do I display?
0 Construxive Remarx