I fucking hate the fact that I feel no sense of security. But more importantly, I hate the fact that I can’t confide in myself. It feels like nothing good will stay unless I stay the same. I need to find a way to dissolve the uncertainty.
This is who I am, and this is who I’ll always be. I refuse to be afraid of something I don’t know to be true.
I refuse to let fear define me.
I’ve spend the past few years trying to overcome my own misery. But these sort of things take time, and I’m running out of mine. So I will pray to a God that isn’t there, to a world that doesn’t hear, to anyone who will listen, to keep me from becoming everything I promised myself that I would never be. I do not deserve this.
When you’re devoid of feeling, you just do as you’re told. Hatred is exhausting but it’s all I’ll ever know.
I just never know if I’m communicating with you or the disease. And even though I curse the idea of an afterlife I still hope you’re taken care of. You deserve to be at peace. Please don’t forget my face. I won’t forget to remember you.
Human hatred is my second nature. This is the root of my isolation. I am what I am, and I am an outcast.
Don’t look for me in the clouds when I am beneath you; nowhere to be found, submerged in apathy. It’s just becoming hard to care. And I am nothing.
I have grown sick of the sound of my own heartbeat. And while the whole world breathes in unison, my lungs are my shield to reject the world around me.
I am what I am, and I am an outcast.
Expose me for all that I am, the man behind the masquerade. I am my own false witness. I’m left to conquer the mountains in my mind. And I am my maker.
Life is what’s killing me. I hate the fact that I’m just fine. Forever seeking anything to take responsibility. Life is what’s killing me. I hate the fact that I’m alive. Forever searching for my scapegoat because I refuse to face reality.
Pray for your rebirth. Pray for your chance to bloom. The heart starts and stops; the mind disconnects. As flowers, we grace the earth with our presence. The tide rises and turns, and we simply expire.
Embrace the light in your heart, not the one in the sky.
Saints and sinners rejoice. We will all rot together.
You are your memorial. Find your mark and make it. The soil is the last thing we ingest. We watch our ashes scatter.
The world moves on without us. We leave only footprints that fade away in time.