Everywhere I Look You're All I See...
"...Just a fading, fucking reminder of who I used to be..."
I'm tired of the voices. I'm tired of the visions, the memories. I'm tired of being broken and not fully knowing what's real and what's not. I'm just tired. I can't seem to get my old life out of my head. I close my eyes and I'm there again. When I open them again, sometimes I'm not fully here anymore. I can't get her out of my head. I see her when I close my eyes. I hear her when I listen closely. Every waking, and dreaming, moment is spent watching my old life play out, almost as if I'm watching a film. I don't want this. I want to be done with it all. I'm sick of always watching the past. It's over. I know it is. It can be no other way. So, why do these voices continue to haunt me with whispers of what could have been? The rational part of me knows that everything I am experiencing is just a product of my broken psyche. Manifestations of thoughts I've had about the one time in my life that I truly failed at something. And yet, I hear and see these ghosts as plain as day. I know that deep down inside of me, I don't truly want what they show me. Perhaps I never did. I don't really know any more. I find myself questioning every thought I have. 'Is this the real me? Is it me trying to trick me? Is it me trying to trick a me that doesn't even exist?" My addled mind is plagued with the 'what if's and 'what could've been's. Ultimately, I'm left in an existential void. All that's truly left are the darkest thoughts in my broken mind. 'Is this any way to live? Am I truly even alive? Is any of this even real to begin with?' And, then, I just think 'Fuck it. Maybe today I'll just end it all and see. If the world is truly a figment of my imagination, what will it matter? Even if it isn't, would that matter either?' I sometimes wonder who is the truly selfish party in that scenario: me, for not caring how it would affect everyone around me; or the world, for preferring to have me alive even in my utter misery. Yet, at the end of the day, I choose the one option that I have always chosen: indifference. I do nothing. I let this day end and the next begin. And, frankly, I know it will always come to that. I'll continue trudging along in my life until forces outside of myself act.
I'm tired of the voices. I'm tired of the visions, the memories. I'm tired of being broken and not fully knowing what's real and what's not. I'm just tired. I can't seem to get my old life out of my head. I close my eyes and I'm there again. When I open them again, sometimes I'm not fully here anymore. I can't get her out of my head. I see her when I close my eyes. I hear her when I listen closely. Every waking, and dreaming, moment is spent watching my old life play out, almost as if I'm watching a film. I don't want this. I want to be done with it all. I'm sick of always watching the past. It's over. I know it is. It can be no other way. So, why do these voices continue to haunt me with whispers of what could have been? The rational part of me knows that everything I am experiencing is just a product of my broken psyche. Manifestations of thoughts I've had about the one time in my life that I truly failed at something. And yet, I hear and see these ghosts as plain as day. I know that deep down inside of me, I don't truly want what they show me. Perhaps I never did. I don't really know any more. I find myself questioning every thought I have. 'Is this the real me? Is it me trying to trick me? Is it me trying to trick a me that doesn't even exist?" My addled mind is plagued with the 'what if's and 'what could've been's. Ultimately, I'm left in an existential void. All that's truly left are the darkest thoughts in my broken mind. 'Is this any way to live? Am I truly even alive? Is any of this even real to begin with?' And, then, I just think 'Fuck it. Maybe today I'll just end it all and see. If the world is truly a figment of my imagination, what will it matter? Even if it isn't, would that matter either?' I sometimes wonder who is the truly selfish party in that scenario: me, for not caring how it would affect everyone around me; or the world, for preferring to have me alive even in my utter misery. Yet, at the end of the day, I choose the one option that I have always chosen: indifference. I do nothing. I let this day end and the next begin. And, frankly, I know it will always come to that. I'll continue trudging along in my life until forces outside of myself act.