Another Night, Another Issue
I'm falling apart. Why do I keep going? It's not for anything else but hope. It's all about hope. But why try.... why have Hope? Things are falling apart around me. I need to move, but with no money, jail time looming in the horizon, what's the point? How do I do it? When you put all your eggs in one fucking basket, how to you salvage anything but broken shells?
Granted all the problems start with me. So where do you go from that when you are the cause of your troubles? There is only me to blame. I hit, I attack, I spy, I do it all. I do it out of fear, out of anger. Grabbing at the straws to find a reason for going on.
Philip told me the other week that there was a gun in our closet. Tonight I looked for it. I went through every box in the closet, I went through the boxes in his room. I couldn't find it. I fear that if I had, I wouldn't be typing this now. I'd be writing a very different letter. And within the hour blood would be draining from my body. I'm suicidal right now, and yet that is the coward in me. It's the fear taking over. I doubt that anyone will be able to understand the ideals that I try to hold myself to. Nobody can. Not even my dearest friends, which are far and few in between. "you nor I can grasp the awesome power of God" Fuck that. God is a concept. He's fake, or at the very least a feckless thug.
I realize that these feelings should and will pass. But when they are here daily, how long is one to wait. With all the powers in me I try to find the light at the end, but I'm running out of time.... I'm not sure what to do next.
But as always, I am alone on this trek, and will dig myself out of the hole that I am in.
Granted all the problems start with me. So where do you go from that when you are the cause of your troubles? There is only me to blame. I hit, I attack, I spy, I do it all. I do it out of fear, out of anger. Grabbing at the straws to find a reason for going on.
Philip told me the other week that there was a gun in our closet. Tonight I looked for it. I went through every box in the closet, I went through the boxes in his room. I couldn't find it. I fear that if I had, I wouldn't be typing this now. I'd be writing a very different letter. And within the hour blood would be draining from my body. I'm suicidal right now, and yet that is the coward in me. It's the fear taking over. I doubt that anyone will be able to understand the ideals that I try to hold myself to. Nobody can. Not even my dearest friends, which are far and few in between. "you nor I can grasp the awesome power of God" Fuck that. God is a concept. He's fake, or at the very least a feckless thug.
I realize that these feelings should and will pass. But when they are here daily, how long is one to wait. With all the powers in me I try to find the light at the end, but I'm running out of time.... I'm not sure what to do next.
But as always, I am alone on this trek, and will dig myself out of the hole that I am in.