Am I alone in here?

I can't stop your sadness.  I can't even stop my own.

I can barely hold my life together.  I can barely hold my mind together.  I can barely function.  I can barely pretend to be okay.  It never ends up mattering what I do.  My roads lead to the same place.  The same night.  The same feeling of churning, waiting to be okay, watching things get worse.  And I do what I think I should, no matter how hard it is, or how much it hurts.  I do what I think is best.  I leave the world behind, because I want something to come home to someday.  I don't think it'll ever be there.  I can barely delude myself to move forward.  I tried for a long time to put it all down, and pretend.  Years.  There's not just one thing.

I let my ears settle, and I forgot how to listen to white noise, and I remembered the screaming of my demons that has always been there, has always been getting slightly louder every day.  I'm waking up to the nightmare.  I hope you'll be alright in your own.

Sta(i)ring

I realized that I had been basically sitting here for the past two days, barely eating and chain-smoking.  When I get into that mode and lose track of time, I feel like I'm completely isolated from the outside world.  And then, when I have to go out and get food and gas, all the anxiety hits me, and I feel like I'm a crazy person trying to function in society.

Maybe that's why I get so clingy.  I force all that anxiety into forward motion when I'm isolated, and keep pushing and pushing, for some kind of reward.

The feelings I have are both elating and frightening.  I always feel like i'm fucking my entire life up by being incompetent and unreliable.  And when I do get things together, I gain momentum until I crash again.

I feel like I'm too old to have these kinds of stability issues.  But I do, and probably always will feel like I'm desperately clinging on to my sanity.  Maybe I'm doomed to the cycle of reaching out and grasping at nothing, and retracting.

I like the feeling of pouring my emotions into something willing; maybe I'm narcissistic.  A part of me will always force myself to believe that there are true forms of love out there, waiting for me to find them.

Maybe there's something in you that pulls me, or an empty space that's sucking me in.  Or maybe I'm being pushing toward you by my own vacuum.  And even though I have the patience to wait and see, I have to fight against that impulse to propel myself forward.

Achieving the Unavoidable

Scream through blind eyes
I cannot see the truth
because reality
is just my own view
My point of no return
Leave, leave these useless shapes

Find life in distortion