(no subject)
I'm dying inside. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore... If I am waiting for something that will never happen or waiting for what I want so badly, and I can't feel anything but the pain of being unwanted. When I come home to this house it feels so cold and empty. And when I'm not here, I strive for the patience and strength to hope for the best in my endeavours. Each day I wake wondering if there is any hope in my future, or if I am simply an idealistic idiot with nothing to look forward to but pain and disappointment. What job am I to undertake? I don't care anymore just as long as I can stand it, and it gives me a chance to be stable. So that I might find the strength to go back and finish what I started. I put the fire aside, and don't mind in the name of something more important. But I'm strong, stronger than most ppl label me. I know that. I won't take the easy way out. I refuse. I'll take the pain. At least I feel something. And maybe for now, that is enough for me (even what I need).
Nothing has flavor like it did. The world is a drab place with walls that scream "suffer." And I've lost that desire to go out and capture beauty. I'm sober for the first time in my life, happy about it even, but I guess what I never noticed was how much pain I drained in habits. And I didn't notice how weak the avoidance of reality had made me. I'm stronger then this, fight back now the clock is ticking.
And seven days from now, I will be reminded of a loss that made me strong, from a man I can't blame anymore for my weaknesses. Integrity give me a chance, and I promise you won't regret it. I think my true problem and loss of confidence in myself, came from that which I once thought set me free. I need the job, the money, and the new car. Ha best bet is win the lottery.
I've sat here too long and my mind has begun to atrophy. There was a time I was sharp, and didn't take shit from anyone. That was me. Now the littlest things get to me, and that is noticed by everyone close to me. A mark I might set: I didn't take shit then but more than a drug filled week, and then... I crippled in time I thought I was taking off. I hate what I used to be a year ago, it haunts the easily manipulated me. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have just left... The world was calling. I can't even hear it's whisper anymore. For now I think I will ignore the passive messages, because fuck it that isn't reality, and live each day looking for a way to stability. Its become obvious that this is something I have to do on my own. I want no pity! To pity me, is to insult me. And the stitches I so desperately need must be sewed by the hand that made them bleed, between the nails I've bitten to stubs when the stress came over me.
Nothing has flavor like it did. The world is a drab place with walls that scream "suffer." And I've lost that desire to go out and capture beauty. I'm sober for the first time in my life, happy about it even, but I guess what I never noticed was how much pain I drained in habits. And I didn't notice how weak the avoidance of reality had made me. I'm stronger then this, fight back now the clock is ticking.
And seven days from now, I will be reminded of a loss that made me strong, from a man I can't blame anymore for my weaknesses. Integrity give me a chance, and I promise you won't regret it. I think my true problem and loss of confidence in myself, came from that which I once thought set me free. I need the job, the money, and the new car. Ha best bet is win the lottery.
I've sat here too long and my mind has begun to atrophy. There was a time I was sharp, and didn't take shit from anyone. That was me. Now the littlest things get to me, and that is noticed by everyone close to me. A mark I might set: I didn't take shit then but more than a drug filled week, and then... I crippled in time I thought I was taking off. I hate what I used to be a year ago, it haunts the easily manipulated me. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have just left... The world was calling. I can't even hear it's whisper anymore. For now I think I will ignore the passive messages, because fuck it that isn't reality, and live each day looking for a way to stability. Its become obvious that this is something I have to do on my own. I want no pity! To pity me, is to insult me. And the stitches I so desperately need must be sewed by the hand that made them bleed, between the nails I've bitten to stubs when the stress came over me.