The bug.
I've caught the deadly disease again. I've been searching for a light in my life and everywhere i turn i seem to be facing mediocrity. Nothing seems good enough. I am longing for something, anything, ANYONE, to just sandpaper the edges of my heart to a place of innate pleasure of existence.
Instead i marvel at loneliness. I do not want to speak to anyone, to do anything else but stay in my own company. I have started to slowly burn the bridges of everyone roaming around me. I marvel at the beauty of death, The easy feeling of silence, blackness, nothingness. I scare people with all these ideas and i could barely care less.
Perhaps a haircut? Get rid of the dreadlocks that are almost two years of some such agony. I watched them slowly as they slowly protrude from my scalp and eventually falling over to the back of my head as they were too long to stand tall or rather short? I find myself thinking of sitting out in the middle of the night dragging on a cigarette, enjoying the only seemingly beautiful thing in life. The evening silence.
My comfort comes with some strange tone and unimaginable need to just NOT be. I'm sure everyone will conclude in the same apparently medical diagnosis of depression. Well i guess if it makes everyone feel better i might have to just accept while slowly i embark on the weirdest, uncomfortable mood of existence yet. Yet its quite gratifying being so in touch with my feelings.
One breathe at a time. Or maybe not
I've caught the deadly disease again. I've been searching for a light in my life and everywhere i turn i seem to be facing mediocrity. Nothing seems good enough. I am longing for something, anything, ANYONE, to just sandpaper the edges of my heart to a place of innate pleasure of existence.
Instead i marvel at loneliness. I do not want to speak to anyone, to do anything else but stay in my own company. I have started to slowly burn the bridges of everyone roaming around me. I marvel at the beauty of death, The easy feeling of silence, blackness, nothingness. I scare people with all these ideas and i could barely care less.
Perhaps a haircut? Get rid of the dreadlocks that are almost two years of some such agony. I watched them slowly as they slowly protrude from my scalp and eventually falling over to the back of my head as they were too long to stand tall or rather short? I find myself thinking of sitting out in the middle of the night dragging on a cigarette, enjoying the only seemingly beautiful thing in life. The evening silence.
My comfort comes with some strange tone and unimaginable need to just NOT be. I'm sure everyone will conclude in the same apparently medical diagnosis of depression. Well i guess if it makes everyone feel better i might have to just accept while slowly i embark on the weirdest, uncomfortable mood of existence yet. Yet its quite gratifying being so in touch with my feelings.
One breathe at a time. Or maybe not
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