(no subject)
I can't shake this empty feeling. There are glimpses of me that shine through some moments but they're short lived and meaningless. I remember a time when a late night bike ride solved all of life's problems. I had this huge heart and these great ambitions.
nearly four years is how long it took for me to reach the edge. I've been there. I've spat over the side and faced my demons. It was the pinnacle of my struggle. The horrible times, the pain, the fear and anguish, the total loss of control were not the worst. I was prepared to go over but I cheated it. I thought I could give up pieces of myself that I'd be strong enough to grow back. Now I've been struggling with this empty feeling. It's never quite filled with the new people I meet or the changes I've faced. I think I went over the edge but not completely. My heart, my soul; everything that makes up myself was sacrificed to salvage an empty shell.
My heart is filled with short circuiting wires. There are brief sparks; fizzled synapses within the empty void. There's a passing thought here, a wisp of a dream there. Sometimes I feel like driving the camaro as far East as she'll take me and sell it for scrap where she dies. Whatever place that may be, it will be where I start over. I will make it or I will die. fade. disappear. But these moments, they pass. I'm not strong enough or driven enough to try.
A memory. That's all that is left.
nearly four years is how long it took for me to reach the edge. I've been there. I've spat over the side and faced my demons. It was the pinnacle of my struggle. The horrible times, the pain, the fear and anguish, the total loss of control were not the worst. I was prepared to go over but I cheated it. I thought I could give up pieces of myself that I'd be strong enough to grow back. Now I've been struggling with this empty feeling. It's never quite filled with the new people I meet or the changes I've faced. I think I went over the edge but not completely. My heart, my soul; everything that makes up myself was sacrificed to salvage an empty shell.
My heart is filled with short circuiting wires. There are brief sparks; fizzled synapses within the empty void. There's a passing thought here, a wisp of a dream there. Sometimes I feel like driving the camaro as far East as she'll take me and sell it for scrap where she dies. Whatever place that may be, it will be where I start over. I will make it or I will die. fade. disappear. But these moments, they pass. I'm not strong enough or driven enough to try.
A memory. That's all that is left.