But everything I can't remember-
As fucked up as it all may seem. The consequences that I've rendered, I've stretched myself beyond my means
I'm not a happy man, I never really was. In fact, I can't really remember a time when I was just....happy. No thought behind it, no underlying worry, no paranoia or hatred or slow burning rage. I don't think I've ever been just plain happy.
There's always something I can't grasp, or something I didn't know, some worry that's pulling at the back of my mind, taking me away from what I need, what I want. There's always that nasty little paranoia bug, that whatever I'm doing is wrong, that no one is to be trusted and that nothing is sane, sound or whithin control.
Is this madness? It feels like it is, that creeping boil that drowns you without you noticing, the warm feeling of insanity pervading your mind, keeping you up at night and twisting your days with conjurations and distortions that your mind knows will fuck you up. Because you know your own demons best. You know their heavy weight inside your chest and the iron grip they have on your mind.
Is this a statement of intent? Or a question to the cold reaches of my distended psyche? Am I telling people I am? Or asking what they think? I don't know. Is anyone reading this? I don't know. Am I crazy? Really, truly and utterly mad after all these years? Maybe. Probably. Do I have any cause to worry? To believe that I'm right? That the paranoia coursing through my veins is justified? Yes. Yes I do, more right than anyone else I know.
It's killing me now, slowly, piece by piece. Not knowing, being trapped in limbo, with so much hanging over me, so much I can change and so much I can't. So much I just don't fucking know. I hate not knowing. And I wish just for a little while I could fucking sleep, calm my nerves in lieu of a stiff drink or a homicide.
You're not really crazy if they really are out to get you. Are you?
"But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you"
53k5hun8
I'm not a happy man, I never really was. In fact, I can't really remember a time when I was just....happy. No thought behind it, no underlying worry, no paranoia or hatred or slow burning rage. I don't think I've ever been just plain happy.
There's always something I can't grasp, or something I didn't know, some worry that's pulling at the back of my mind, taking me away from what I need, what I want. There's always that nasty little paranoia bug, that whatever I'm doing is wrong, that no one is to be trusted and that nothing is sane, sound or whithin control.
Is this madness? It feels like it is, that creeping boil that drowns you without you noticing, the warm feeling of insanity pervading your mind, keeping you up at night and twisting your days with conjurations and distortions that your mind knows will fuck you up. Because you know your own demons best. You know their heavy weight inside your chest and the iron grip they have on your mind.
Is this a statement of intent? Or a question to the cold reaches of my distended psyche? Am I telling people I am? Or asking what they think? I don't know. Is anyone reading this? I don't know. Am I crazy? Really, truly and utterly mad after all these years? Maybe. Probably. Do I have any cause to worry? To believe that I'm right? That the paranoia coursing through my veins is justified? Yes. Yes I do, more right than anyone else I know.
It's killing me now, slowly, piece by piece. Not knowing, being trapped in limbo, with so much hanging over me, so much I can change and so much I can't. So much I just don't fucking know. I hate not knowing. And I wish just for a little while I could fucking sleep, calm my nerves in lieu of a stiff drink or a homicide.
You're not really crazy if they really are out to get you. Are you?
"But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you"
53k5hun8