I know that I don’t know the things I think I know, for if I knew the things I thought I knew then the way it turned out would not have come as such a surprise and I would understand my reality. Abandoned by my issues, left to face my damage I pull myself apart. The waste basket is full of the bits of me I find useless… How does one recycle hope, wants and dreams? I live in my feelings and usually they hurt who would expect any less? Snakes and ladders in this life I live movement at the roll of a die. I can’t even tease myself when it’s my turn to play. I keep buying the ticket to slide down hill and have lost every anything I’ve made. Today I shall trim yet once again shedding the unwanted things. For a person like me who really hasn’t owned anything the lack of stability ensured me that much, I admit it was nice for that moment when the music was louder then my thoughts and my friends were a not a memory of fiction, and the stress was a different misery.
I have managed to get expelled from detox, forgotten how to sleep and have no clue how to take care of myself anymore.
I feel like I piss people off more then anything. Breathing seems to be the biggest thing I can do to create the hate around me. I try not to eat with hopes of speeding up my ends. I fail at me and me all to often I try not to even even at.
I need passion, I need love, I need the spark to get me going again. I fear I’ve lost motivation.
A snap of a finger is about the time it seems to take. Cruise control on, open road running in a direction sweeping the miles of life into the mirror of memories. Sometimes I gaze into that reflective pool of depression and mistake the question of what if?
What if I got it right? What if I didn’t get flats, had the security of a full tank of gas and had the dream of an achievable dream? What if I didn’t lose everyone or gained something aside from the cliche sayings I mutter to excuse the sad state of my existence. What if I had a choice to not let go of the people who mattered the most to me? Travel companions, people who one minute laughing, join me, navigating out a plan of attacking the map and forging through to a destination of enchanted dreams…
This fucking road must be haunted.
The sound of the laughter still tickles my ear, yet there is no smile to accompany the fading giggles, in that second I blinked its all the same, the similarity of different.
Words can’t aptly describe the way it feels in that second of a second when it changes and another person walks away and I scratch my head, wonder if they were even there? I mean were they? How many times do I allow myself to believe? How many more disillusioned dreams of friendship and love will I watch dive into the rear view mirror before I just accept that I am not the person people want? If I fell off, I know it wouldn’t matter because I wasn’t ever there, I am the person who gets to be left behind in this rear view mirror of lonely yesterday.
Things are never what they seem to be in this world. Love is a 4 letter word, loyalty last till the weekend or the next bigger bag and friends turn out to be the ones who fuck you over the worst. The methy relations seem to be the the hardest to foster, the shade is the shadow cast upon normalised fantasy.
I wish to be someone’s true friend only I dont really ever know how. Trust is so far gone from my persona that its a fable from a story of a story I heard. I wish I wasn’t a drug. I want to be more then a shard. I asked for this life without knowing this life would kill the human that was me… The lies add up the scams and games. A means to an end is what i fear I’ve become. A drug with no concept of me.
I think of the blessings i have, I’m lucky I guess. Still I wonder if I wasn’t a drug would I still be close to enough. I have a sad story then again don’t we all. I ask for no pity, I ask for as little as I can. I truly only want truth, for the human inside to be someone’s desire and every once and a while someone’s priority.
The drugs have changed the world. I see it in my self. So self absorbed not seeing others and yet in the mirror I don’t see anything familiar. I see a monster who once believed in everything I havnt become. I want to be me again, then maybe I can find my worth. I reached out to the people I know telling them about the end of my plans. With hands out they missed what I was saying and the drugs had won again.
Flick of the bic another blast to wash away everyday before it. Inhale the acceptance of a bleak future marred with fake love and apathetic people who rarely have concern for the extreme episode of self destruction I find necessary to face each and every day.
“Stop me. Scold me. Do something. Anything. Show me you actually care.” Instead as the bic is flicked and more words are spoken adding to the story of the worlds indifference. Reality is grim, no one will tell me what I actually need to hear, rather my ears are tickled with the words that haunt my soul. I don’t blame them for even I forget the person inside this man is just that. A person.
No one says no as I flick the bic bringing the flame to scortch my chances at life. Its rare that my words are ever truly heard and should I add up on my hand those who chalenged me to fight me to fight the demon, the demon who after ripping me bare became my only friend, the math once completed would still add up to the daunting sum. Zero. I have become a means to an end. The reason I want to die is the reason I live. I am transformed completly into my enemy. I am now the substance, I am only looked at as the drug that killed me.
Flick of the bic another blast to wash away everything before it.