Mele Kalikimaka
I hate myself and who I've become. I wonder if I'll ever find the means, or strength to change again. Sometimes I wonder if I ever even changed at all, if I was always this way, this person, this foul thing, only I never peered into the mirror close enough to see behind the eyes and breach the water's surface. I find it hard to fathom that I was always this way, as this idea brings forth the questions of other people's tastes and preferences, or their levels of tolerance.. Surely I did not reach as far as I had being the way I am; surely I could not have. Surely something would have been spoken, someone would have given warning, somehow..
Or am I just that good at hiding? Is this the one thing at which I am skilled above all others at, the calling of my life? To hide and not be seen, to shroud myself in a vale behind which no one shall see. To say "I'm okay" in a perfectly convincing manner.. I don't know if I was or not.. I know only now that I'm not.
When did it all begin? How does one slip to tumble down the spiral stairs and never be the wiser of their descent towards darkness? I find myself so confused, so very... conflicted. I'm not sure where to turn, what to speak, to whom to listen, and none of this worries me. There has been a single thought plaguing my mind, a pointed question that finds it way to the forefront at both dawn and dusk; ever present, it lingers, waiting an answer I cannot provide. But frightening enough as the base question itself is, pales in comparison to the entire whole it presents, the paradoxical nature it creates, ever reflecting upon itself to realize that I'm not so sure I wish to find any answers, to solve any problems, or to make even the slightest of changes over my current state of being. I know I am lost; I do not know that I wish to be found. I feel I can achieve greatness; I do not feel as though I wish to try. I believe I could be happy; I disbelieve that it matters. I find my soul to be empty of all but nothingness; I find no desire to see it filled. All stem themselves from the single question that refuses to leave me for all that it banishes itself just by being. When did this happen? How does this happen? .. or did it even happen it all -- perhaps it simply always was. I cannot help but wonder..
Why don't I care anymore?
It's an ability I seem to have lost along the way, if I ever even had it -- I'd like to think highly enough of myself to at least grant the benifit of doubt on that matter -- and one that has been lost for some time now.. A couple of years, at the very least. Being at state of neither peace nor turmoil but rather an empty slate of nothing, do I really want it back? Life could be a lot worse than this. This is nothing. Next to others, I likely have it good -- very good. Does this matter? .. I don't know. I don't know anything.
Not true. I know one thing: I've had enough glasses of wine to make me rather tired now. "Enough" meaning one.. ok.. Half of one. -_-;
Or am I just that good at hiding? Is this the one thing at which I am skilled above all others at, the calling of my life? To hide and not be seen, to shroud myself in a vale behind which no one shall see. To say "I'm okay" in a perfectly convincing manner.. I don't know if I was or not.. I know only now that I'm not.
When did it all begin? How does one slip to tumble down the spiral stairs and never be the wiser of their descent towards darkness? I find myself so confused, so very... conflicted. I'm not sure where to turn, what to speak, to whom to listen, and none of this worries me. There has been a single thought plaguing my mind, a pointed question that finds it way to the forefront at both dawn and dusk; ever present, it lingers, waiting an answer I cannot provide. But frightening enough as the base question itself is, pales in comparison to the entire whole it presents, the paradoxical nature it creates, ever reflecting upon itself to realize that I'm not so sure I wish to find any answers, to solve any problems, or to make even the slightest of changes over my current state of being. I know I am lost; I do not know that I wish to be found. I feel I can achieve greatness; I do not feel as though I wish to try. I believe I could be happy; I disbelieve that it matters. I find my soul to be empty of all but nothingness; I find no desire to see it filled. All stem themselves from the single question that refuses to leave me for all that it banishes itself just by being. When did this happen? How does this happen? .. or did it even happen it all -- perhaps it simply always was. I cannot help but wonder..
Why don't I care anymore?
It's an ability I seem to have lost along the way, if I ever even had it -- I'd like to think highly enough of myself to at least grant the benifit of doubt on that matter -- and one that has been lost for some time now.. A couple of years, at the very least. Being at state of neither peace nor turmoil but rather an empty slate of nothing, do I really want it back? Life could be a lot worse than this. This is nothing. Next to others, I likely have it good -- very good. Does this matter? .. I don't know. I don't know anything.
Not true. I know one thing: I've had enough glasses of wine to make me rather tired now. "Enough" meaning one.. ok.. Half of one. -_-;