Internal suffering
When everything is lost and gone, who will I have to turn to? It's as if the darkness that I have held so close, that I have wrapped around me like a cold blanket for comfort all these years, is now trying to suffocate me. When there is nothing left, what will I hold on to? Will the razor's edge that I balance upon finally crack my sanity in twain? If I lose myself, will the blood flow as sweetly as I imagine? Who can know? I call out to God, and get his voicemail. There's no point in leaving a message, he won't hear it anyways. So it is left to me. Everything is in my hands, and all I want to do is let go. Let everything fall, let everyone suffer, let everyong scream out in agony and despair as the heaven's turn black and fires of hell lick at their burning flesh. But instead, I wake up.
Instead of opening my veins and letting life spill forth in crimson ecstacy, I take a shower. Instead wrapping a black cord around my neck and cinching closed my windpipe, I brush my teeth. Instead of walking out into heavy traffic with my eyes closed, humming "Amazing Grace"...I get in the car and drive. I have had an epiphany. I am already dead. I'm just waiting for the rest of the world to realize it. Until they do, I'm trapped here. Anguished. Loathesome. Hideous.
In the mirror, there are only monsters.
Instead of opening my veins and letting life spill forth in crimson ecstacy, I take a shower. Instead wrapping a black cord around my neck and cinching closed my windpipe, I brush my teeth. Instead of walking out into heavy traffic with my eyes closed, humming "Amazing Grace"...I get in the car and drive. I have had an epiphany. I am already dead. I'm just waiting for the rest of the world to realize it. Until they do, I'm trapped here. Anguished. Loathesome. Hideous.
In the mirror, there are only monsters.