| Noose... |
What to say, what to say?
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I am lost in my own translation, existing in a world I see without myself. Something keeps an empty space in the universe wherever I am standing. This is no dark cloud above my head; this is the blackest hole and it just waits to suck you in. It wants everything and it wants it all. Not the pieces, all the broken pieces, but the whole world and everything in it. It wants it all.
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A gift of life to drink of life...
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I see the world in a minor key. The same sad song each day, each hour a different verse, each with more meaning than the last. Then, the last, the most passionate of all, the focal point, the center, the meaning of it all: it is nothing. It is just a blurred stain in a complex weave. Ruin. Devastated, I am lost to this simple purpose...
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I am a crack in the mirror. I am, in myself, lost in purpose, lost in utility. I am an inconvenience, damage, a scar. But within me, you find inspiration, you find meaning. Through me you find a different, beautiful world. Without me, all you see is all you have. All you see is all you are...
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What does everyone else know that I don't? Why do others find happiness, while in their wake, I find despair and sorrow? What light glints direction into their eyes when I am blinking? What hope have others found that I ignorantly overlook? Where is everybody going? Where did I get lost?
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I am lost, though. I lose myself. I drown. I never really learned to swim. It is instinct not to die. "Just move, keep going, don't let your head down..." I never really learned to swim; it's just instinct...
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Where would I be without you? Would I be so numb? Would I be so calloused? Would I fear? Would I feel like others do? How would I see the world with a different mind? Would I want to? Would I forget you? Would I erase you? Would I let you go? I don't want to let you go...
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It is so cold...
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I drink smoke. I drink it in like sweet air. I taste the death, the poison, that toxic cloud. I taste it, and I like it. Smoke kills, but so does God.
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I was only created in its image...
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It is thin ice here. Every step is carefully watched, intently followed. I don't want to sink here. A frozen oblivion waits for me below, waits to devour me, swallow me into the deep dark of its gaping maw. The chances are slim, hope is beyond reason, but still I dance across the ice praying for there to be another side...
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Is it worth it? Do you take wing on a chance beyond reason or do nothing? Is it sane to chase death? Is it wiser to wait for it instead?
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Why fear the inevitable?
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Dear Diary,
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Today I conquered my fear of living...