It was like a comatose overdose cause no matter what I did
I’d never get close
So I started asking questions, pounding my brain with theoretical bullshit that acted more like poison than a cure
Like playing hangman with myself but all of the vowels are already deemed incorrect,
An impossible game with no winner, no way out.
I’ve got my trains of thought written out in braille
Can’t really see, just trying to feel my way through life
Everything catching me by surprise
All my vices and demons in disguise
Waiting for me to take one wrong step
And then it’s all over.
I’m not accustomed to your lifestyle
I thought about it for a while
Trying to force myself, MOLD myself into something I knew I was never meant to be
But it all seemed worth it to me. And looking back this all seems like it was nothing but a story. And a story is not enough to convey what it means to be trapped inside your mind, and lately you’ve been trapped inside mine, a place where you run circles, where you run aimlessly out of lack of interest and boredom. I like to think of it as a quiet, curing remedy to my lack of self-purpose, like somehow my measure of worth is determined by thoughts that occupy this steady moving conveyer belt that has no switch and no way to be turned off. And it just keeps going and going and going just like I keep hoping and hoping and hoping that there is some form of justification to be had for the threads I’ve been hanging on since you let me know that you “weren’t feeling it anymore”.
I build my walls like I’m building a home to die in, every motive personified through some depressing ambition that stems from an idea blown out of proportion. Everyone needs a home to die in. I’m creating a safe house that doubles as a graveyard for my buried ambitions and fleeting hope for a happy future.
This is in memory of all the things I tried to let go of.
All of the poems that I tried to write to put together these albums and fit all my thoughts inside. All the things I wished panned out differently and the stories I made myself believe.
I’m not okay but I’m alive, and I’m hoping it works itself out in time
because I’m tired of wearing the soles thin on my shoes just to chase after you.
Won’t you chase after me for once?
Like won’t you take your ambitions to greater heights this time,
Show me that there’s something left after all.
I’m tired of writing like an angst-driven teenage kid
but that’s pretty what what I am, and that’s all I ever did.
Let me carry you from the wreckage, swim with you from the depths till we reach safety.
Don’t let your preconceived quandaries or your fears weigh us down, we can’t afford any extra weight.
I’m searching for revelation, passing up opportunities just to say I could, hoping all along that better things were on the way. And there was never really anything left to say but I tried anyway to extinguish any risk of silence or blank space cause that’s all this ever was in the first place, blank space covering our discord.
I’ve watched you succumb to every trend society threw at you, watched you be eaten alive but the world’s perception of wrong and right and what it means to obtain beauty. I watched the innocence be purged from your waters, every bit of dignity left behind, strained back between fictional lifestyles and clouded window panes, and unrealistic goals and ambitions to achieve perfection. You never realized that you were already perfect, just as you were.
I loved you for the way you held yourself together when you held everyone else together, and when we were together you never showed any sign of weakness, despite the weather and the storms that never ceased. And you’d piece us all back together like you’d made us yourself, knowing what to say and what to do, always.
I don’t know where I stand these days. I’m stuck in limbo between what I want to believe and what’s really there in front of me. Wondering if anyone out there is wondering what’s become of me, or if they ever think of me. Cause I know I left my mark so long ago but so many have walked those same lines since and I wonder if there’s any trace of me left despite the separating distance.