Windowsills and broken roofs.

Sleep is getting at me but these thoughts, these shattered voices in my head won’t let me concentrate, they won’t let me sleep at all. I worry too much and then I don’t worry at all and it’s a mess. God, I’m such a mess. Cold nights with loneliness. No one to talk to, no one to share a cup of coffee with, no one to snuggle with, no one to tell you how much they care. The more I think about it, the more I hate this season. Cold with cold just doesn’t feel right at least when it’s warm there’s a fighting chance but now there’s no chance at winning,much less surviving this season without some warmth.

I tried loving myself and it led me to be someone I couldn’t recognize in the mirror so it comes down to the question of what do I deserve… which of course, has no defined answer. It’s like you watch the world move on but you are just sitting there watching, not moving, not doing anything to make the world move for you so it moves around you. Friends disappear throughout time and what is left of this is just plain emptiness and that vacant feeling inside your chest telling you how awful it must be to find yourself all alone in such a horrifying world like the one we live in. It’s a constant soap opera of someone else’s life except yours, you’re just an extra that ends up either dead or gone and that’s all you’ll ever be to this world, nothing more….

You can’t expect anything at all because it always leads you to dissapointment and some sort of remorse that builds up on the what if and the at least I tried. You try to incorporate yourself in a decent social life, you try talking to people but what comes out of their mouths is a resemblance of how small of a brain they possess  Their knowledge is so small it scares you to even imagine how they’ve gotten so far. Online dating is just as worse, old men hitting on younger girls, guys the perfect age acting like dogs. There’s no more courtesy, no more courtship, no more beauty in life. It’s all in black and red, bruises and blood, cascading down the road I try not to cross so frequently but when you have the world pointing at you and hitting against you, what can you do but follow the current? Fighting would be suicide and it wouldn’t be a decision that I would make, it would be something I was pushed into doing.

Nothing is no longer pure and beautiful, everything is corrupted and what ever may be left as pure and worthy has somehow by someone or something , began to be corrupted. We are puppets in a huge puppet show, doing the orders of others and yet we call ourselves free. There is no freedom, it’s just a word to cover up the fact the we are imprisoned with certain privileges, but we were never free and the only way to be so is to never exist, even death is an imprisonment. We cycle our souls into dark holes of mysterious events such as life and death, and we question our existence putting up names and following up words from a book that was written by men who say they lived with a God, there’s no proof , just words, vacant words that are constantly changed and undefined. One tells you something and the other contradicts it, but we live in this world believing we are not alone just to feel that certain gratification that there will not be penance after death and that death will be a sweet slumber, painless and white, all white because white evokes peace, yet death is always presented as black. If there is a God he’s an evil son of a bitch giving you a period of life to make it your own yet having to deal with fate and destiny and never choosing the right path, calling this free will when the obstacles presented lead you away no matter how hard you fight or evade them.

Then love, always choosing the one you’re meant to ignore and ignoring the one you were meant to choose. We fall too quickly and let go too fast because it’s all sexually driven, there is no such thing as love, it’s just that instinct of imprisoning someone to your own commands and doing it so in the name of love. Yet we need it, we yearn it, it’s asphyxiating touch, it’s bittersweet travel, the pushing and pulling , the drawing out and drawing in. We need it because we need to feel love, we were taught to be loved, to need that certain attention to feel unique because our mother’s needed it and so do we their children. So we think we can choose right, make up for the wrongs our parents once did, break the cycle and release the chains that bind you from repeating the same story all over again in an endless chain reaction and we end up choosing the same path because life is predestined, everything is set out for you, you are just given the thought that you can choose a different road to college today but in truth they already know your move ( and as for they, I’m talking about this non-existent God that loves you so damn much) If there is a heaven and a hell I’m pretty sure it’s not above or below us but right here were we’re standing and it’s called life.  So we believe because among us lies other supernatural entities and we obviously think this is a doing of God, but we never leave this place, we cycle souls and bodies throughout time, how would you know things you never read, learned or heard before?  How would you explain the certain instinct you get when something’s gonna happen and when someone is right or wrong to be around you? There is no freedom, there is no point in living a life that has been predestined for you, but there’s no point in suicide either, they are both worthless but I’ve learn that while you are in hell you gotta burn it up a little more right before you’re outta there. So enjoy it, live the predestined life thinking you chose the path and have a ball…

It’s easier said than done, right?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s