Happy birthday to me.
This is where I hide my power.
This is where I become free.
This is where I take control,
and slowly choke your fantasies.
I want to know my day is coming,
see my enemies be punished.
Shed my skin again,
this will be my best revenge.
I am dangerously in the red.
And I can’t fucking talk to anybody about it. So I’ll just piss and whine on tumblr. Every high sends me to a new low. I should just expect this by now. I was already a big fucking joke to everyone anyway. Everyone I’ve alienated is probably laughing at me just as much as they were before I excised them from my life. Yay. You win. Fuck this. Nothing is ever going to be better. I give up.
The light is gone, although here it never was
Dusk becomes night, just like it always does
I conceal all my fear in smiles and shrugs
Time, it drains; and my mind, it goes abuzz
No clear thoughts, only droning and stinging
Nothing to pacify the endless sound of the ringing
Blurry round the edges, from which I’m dangling and clinging
Desperate for a breath of happiness from life I’m wringing
Drowning in this sea of gray, struggling to even see
Falling farther into this mindless spineless monotony
And nothing helps, no sort of comfort in this waste of me
Even these words fail to illustrate my plaintive plea
I set fire to the ground around me; an incandescent haze
It cloaks me, and surrounds my countenance ablaze
No chances left for me of ever working out the maze
Here I thought the misery you left behind was just a phase
But I was wrong as I so very often seem to be
These seams are stretching and now all I am is empty
I see a garden and all I want is to prune the family tree
But I can’t find the drive to climb atop the canopy
No consolation, never any peace or succor
Every second wasted is one that I’ll see nevermore
And when the tally is drawn, I will already know the score
For it’s obvious, haha… a vacuum is what nature abhors.
Untitled Broadcast
It’s minecraft this time, working on my pixel art, in case anyone is into that sort of thing.
I’m drunk. I don’t exactly know what I’m doing on tumblr, since I hate this site. I don’t even know why I have one of these anymore. I guess this is one of those stupid stream of consciousness posts I neglect to do anymore. Wow, I have really great syntax for being so drunk. Made myself some Polynesian hot rods. Gotta love em.
Stuff isn’t getting better. I look at myself in the mirror every day and smile, to reinforce that sense of positive self image and perhaps dredge up whatever residue of self worth is left at the bottom of this pit, but it always comes back cold. I dug it myself. I put it here. It was my project, and it’s an astounding success. Now that I’m at the bottom staring up, I suddenly realize that’s where I want to be. Happiness isn’t the goal. It’s a matter of survival at this point.
If I don’t get out of this hole, I am going to die. I am already dead in a lot of ways. Literally is just about the only way left I am not yet dead. Not brave enough to make that leap, though I have considered it.
Hate is a resounding theme in my every day life. I hate what has put me here, most notably myself. I hate what I don’t have, I hate that I don’t have it. I hate that I feel this way, so rife with self-pity, I hate not being able to reach out to anyone for fear of looking like I seek sympathy. I offer none, why should I receive any in return? Nothing is free.
I hate that I can’t let go. I hate that everything is already too far gone. I have cut myself off at the waist and now I scratch and claw for purchase in the unyielding ground. I am already buried. What once was a proud facade of excellence has become a withered thing; an exquisite, picturesque statue obscured by moss and graffiti.
I’m not even a person. I’m a spiteful, baleful thing stewing in my own bitterness, not even afforded the comfort of self-made illusions with which I’ve finally, fully come to terms. I’m already dead.
The beast has a name. Its name is Borderline. After some research, I have realized that is what is wrong with me. To the victims of my splitting, I offer no reconciliation nor an olive branch, but know that this is the cause. This is why I refuse to acknowledge your forgiveness, your apologies, this is why I hate you -especially- if I was invested in you in any significant way.
It’s why I hate myself. I am no less a victim of my own tendencies.
I wouldn’t be friends with me. I don’t even care enough to try. To -want- to try. I will decay. It is inevitable. I have seen it. My doom. The brightest star burns out the quickest. Beautiful, brutal, incandescent, temporary, and easily forgotten. I am rapidly approaching the end of this half-life.
Sink or swim. Live or die. I hope you are satisfied, because I’m not. And I never will be, if this continues. I need something to believe in, because I sure as hell don’t believe in me. Need creates a vacuum. Need creates a void.
And the void is real. Even if it is the product of illusory madness.
