"I am naked, I have nothing left, my bones are picked clean, and riddled with regrets"
I guess I'm just sitting here, waiting upon a hope based upon a false prayer that you might have something to say or add, something to mention or even a thought to give, a care or perhaps a desire, but I suppose all this conjecture is really moot when you think about it, in the long run it is out of my hands who feels what for whom, and I suppose I should just give up on this childish thought, this thing that I have been clinging to so firmly, there has been this dream in the back of my mind for years, a dream of happiness and smiling faces, a dream created when I met you, a dream destroyed this night that I have recognized my place upon the world, it seems as though I have only been the architect of my own demise, some parasitic creature that feeds off the feelings of those around him, this thirst only growing stronger with each compliment and courtesy I am given, it looks like I've lost my way again, seems that as soon as I have a good grip on things I am stripped of something very dear to me, only leading to more confusion, why is this path I've lead so fraught with pain and choice, it seems so brutal at times to wonder why it is that we create these lives for ourselves, that through some sadistic plan we are setting ourselves up for destruction, ugh, you know these long introspective evenings, when I just sit at home and wonder on the many facets of my life, both good and bad, pure and hollow, painful and passionate, it seems they all come to the same fork in the road "Who?" and I think I answer that question, I think for a moment that I might find the peace that in my mind I am searching so desperately for, and right when I do, it all crashes down in my eyes, it all seems to fall into the web of misunderstanding and conceit, there is so much chaos clouding my vision at this point in life that I wonder if I should even try, if I should simply lay back and let the river flow, taking me to whatever places it may take me, and leading me down whichever path it might choose, but then I am faced again with choice and a decision to be made, is it that I truly want to be free of all these things I have held so tightly onto over the years, have I become comfortable in this apathetic state of self loathing? I fear that the answer may be yes, and that there may be no solving this dilemma, but as confusing as it all is I understand the world, I understand my place and my duty to those who care, yet I wonder if they truly care, perhaps they wear the same mask I do, perhaps they simply pretend with hollow words in shallow voices, they never seem to care when I need them to, you weren't there when I cried out for you, but then again should I have expected you to be, I don't think so, I don't think I should expect anyone to come to my aid when the time is most dire, because I know that people understand me well enough to know that I will live through it, and that they really don't need to make it easier, whatever is most convenient for the general populous I suppose, there numbers growing greater everyday now, so I sit here, all alone in my kitchen, and I wonder on these many things, but all I can think about is you, I suppose I should give up hope on that childish dream right about now, but I can't help but think to myself "Maybe she'll have something to say in the morning" and so I go to sleep, clinging to a false hope built up so high from a false prayer...