life, or something like it
life mocks me
it gives me little pieces of tiny scraps of hope
then it rips them away.
time after time.
I have material things, but they mean nothing.
I have so many ideas, but none of them can help me help myself.
I have friends, but they are all so far away, and if I were me, I wouldn't want to be my friend anyway.
Those who I care deeply for, stay for a time and then they simply drift away, taking my need for their friendship along with them.
I have no idea why I am like this.
I don't even know if I CAN get better.
IF I DID improve and could think properly again, what would be the point?
My life is empty. SO empty.
I've tried so often to fill it, but nothing works. It's like I am a vessel with a huge hole in it. I fail at everything I should succeed at, and I don't even know why.
I long for the one thing I can never have, even though I ache myself apart for it every day, and rail at the unfairness of seeing it all around me, but never having it myself. Though I know that if it was presented to me on a silver platter, with no strings attached, I would take it and hold it to me so damned tight that I would simply choke it and then ultimately lose it anyway.
Damned if I do
Damned if I don't
I'm so confused and lonely. Unhappy and afraid. Bitter and pathetic.
Needy and weak.
I used to have trouble coping with just living week to week. But now, I even having trouble coping with who I am, let alone the living part.
I don't know who I am anymore. Perhaps I never have done.
I have no idea.
I have no idea about anything at all.
Sometimes it's like I am a two year old, and everything is so frightening and I get so scared because I can't cope.
Plus, it's so difficult to explain things like this.
How DO you explain a feeling of nothingness? It is INHERENTLY nothing, ergo it has no value or form, defining traits or descriptions. It's explaining the unexplainable.
And I hate it.
Descartes once said "I think, therefore, I am"
But, I don't think he knew what he was talking about REALLY.
OR, maybe he DID, and it's just that I DON'T.
I wish I knew.
I wish I wasn't so f**king insane and that I could think clearly without analyzing every goddamn little thing.
I used to dislike myself. Now I hate myself. Big deal.
Why can't I just accept that and move on?
Sometimes I wonder if I am sane at all. Perhaps more of the Brad Pitt character in 12 Monkeys, than Alice In Wonderland. Not quite knowing WHAT is the truth and reality, but being not quite sane enough to give a f**k anyway.
Everything is lost to me
and I am lost to everything in return.
I wish I had the words to say what I mean.
But I don't.
Not anymore.
it gives me little pieces of tiny scraps of hope
then it rips them away.
time after time.
I have material things, but they mean nothing.
I have so many ideas, but none of them can help me help myself.
I have friends, but they are all so far away, and if I were me, I wouldn't want to be my friend anyway.
Those who I care deeply for, stay for a time and then they simply drift away, taking my need for their friendship along with them.
I have no idea why I am like this.
I don't even know if I CAN get better.
IF I DID improve and could think properly again, what would be the point?
My life is empty. SO empty.
I've tried so often to fill it, but nothing works. It's like I am a vessel with a huge hole in it. I fail at everything I should succeed at, and I don't even know why.
I long for the one thing I can never have, even though I ache myself apart for it every day, and rail at the unfairness of seeing it all around me, but never having it myself. Though I know that if it was presented to me on a silver platter, with no strings attached, I would take it and hold it to me so damned tight that I would simply choke it and then ultimately lose it anyway.
Damned if I do
Damned if I don't
I'm so confused and lonely. Unhappy and afraid. Bitter and pathetic.
Needy and weak.
I used to have trouble coping with just living week to week. But now, I even having trouble coping with who I am, let alone the living part.
I don't know who I am anymore. Perhaps I never have done.
I have no idea.
I have no idea about anything at all.
Sometimes it's like I am a two year old, and everything is so frightening and I get so scared because I can't cope.
Plus, it's so difficult to explain things like this.
How DO you explain a feeling of nothingness? It is INHERENTLY nothing, ergo it has no value or form, defining traits or descriptions. It's explaining the unexplainable.
And I hate it.
Descartes once said "I think, therefore, I am"
But, I don't think he knew what he was talking about REALLY.
OR, maybe he DID, and it's just that I DON'T.
I wish I knew.
I wish I wasn't so f**king insane and that I could think clearly without analyzing every goddamn little thing.
I used to dislike myself. Now I hate myself. Big deal.
Why can't I just accept that and move on?
Sometimes I wonder if I am sane at all. Perhaps more of the Brad Pitt character in 12 Monkeys, than Alice In Wonderland. Not quite knowing WHAT is the truth and reality, but being not quite sane enough to give a f**k anyway.
Everything is lost to me
and I am lost to everything in return.
I wish I had the words to say what I mean.
But I don't.
Not anymore.