How did the shutter grace over my eyes in such a span of time? My life was never with such darkness until that fateful night that she left me. Its been a year, and I've never felt so desolate and destitute in my life. Why is it that I still love her and desire her even now? It seems foolish, I know... But... why do I still feel this way? What is it about her that keeps sending me into a spiral, questioning everything I know to be true.
I feel foolish because I know there are people that have to contemplate their last days from bombs flying overhead, or the next time men with green banners wish to slaughter their home villages to convert to their oppressive way of thinking and believing in a god.
I have my own pains, but that is no excuse to ignore the obvious suffering of those who are near and far to me.
What the hell am I to do?
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Friday, October 25, 2013
Monday, October 21, 2013
Can you really touch my heart from afar like I've done for so many before me?
People say they are alone, but they are not for I am with them, but... are my words a blasphemy towards the God I worship?
There is none good but God, but the man that is painted to be God in the flesh, he said that greater things will come of me. What am I entailed to?
I deteriorate each day... My friend finds great sorrow in knowing that I will not be coming to see him, but he has made great effort to see me, to bathe in the darkness of my life in an attempt to give me some form of hope.
But for some stupid fucking reason, I cannot cause break from my own stupidity to go and see him.
Constant circles. Constant questions, never an answer, just answering with more questions returning back to the original point, no escape from this madness.
My whole soul covers this earth, I feel the anguish and pain of each one that suffers.
But I want to detract so that I may not feel so foolish anymore, but...
If I am so big, so powerful, then why do I do nothing?
But the voice likes to tell me I do enough, I do more than enough, but maybe its lal a lie, maybe I tell myself these things.
Maybe I really am alone in this little world I created as some way to destroy the truth in front of me of how dark and lonely things can be.
People say they are alone, but they are not for I am with them, but... are my words a blasphemy towards the God I worship?
There is none good but God, but the man that is painted to be God in the flesh, he said that greater things will come of me. What am I entailed to?
I deteriorate each day... My friend finds great sorrow in knowing that I will not be coming to see him, but he has made great effort to see me, to bathe in the darkness of my life in an attempt to give me some form of hope.
But for some stupid fucking reason, I cannot cause break from my own stupidity to go and see him.
Constant circles. Constant questions, never an answer, just answering with more questions returning back to the original point, no escape from this madness.
My whole soul covers this earth, I feel the anguish and pain of each one that suffers.
But I want to detract so that I may not feel so foolish anymore, but...
If I am so big, so powerful, then why do I do nothing?
But the voice likes to tell me I do enough, I do more than enough, but maybe its lal a lie, maybe I tell myself these things.
Maybe I really am alone in this little world I created as some way to destroy the truth in front of me of how dark and lonely things can be.
I feel as if I constantly have to hide how I feel.
People tend to get pissed off.
So I try my best to sit alone in what I'm dealing with.
Need help, but don't know how anyone can help me. Need help, but don't believe I can be helped. Need help, but I don't even know what it'll take for someone to help me. Do I want someone to just hug and kiss me while I cry?
Maybe thats what I need.
Someone that can see me.
But theres so many people that are unseen so I wonder am i just another phantom like those that dance around me?
People tend to get pissed off.
So I try my best to sit alone in what I'm dealing with.
Need help, but don't know how anyone can help me. Need help, but don't believe I can be helped. Need help, but I don't even know what it'll take for someone to help me. Do I want someone to just hug and kiss me while I cry?
Maybe thats what I need.
Someone that can see me.
But theres so many people that are unseen so I wonder am i just another phantom like those that dance around me?
Just trying to figure my shit out right now.
I lost alot in one year, and I haven't really accomplished much in 20 years of my life. I'm scared of being another statistic or stereotype, but with the way I act already, it doesn't really help. I guess I try my best to just let it roll off my back, but I end up reinforcing everyones falsified opinions in the long run. I used to want to be a theorhetical astrophysicist, but it seemed almost unecessary because I don't have anything to add to the global commentary, you know? Everything I've said, written, done, it doesn't feel like it came from me, but channelled from some other long gone soul. I'm having a major identity crisis but I don't have time to figure shit out.
I'm a man, thats one thing. But I'm a black man. A black man in america, so I have twice as much I have to do to prove myself. But when I'm sitting here being diagnosed with a million different mental illnesses, its kind of hard. Its one thing to be mentally ill, people see you as broken and sub-human. But to be black, its... its alot worse.
I got so much pressure on my back. Pressure I shouldn't have on me.
Pressure that I shouldn't even allow to phase me.
Its just a scary thought that most women in my life won't even love me for my mind, my heart, my innermost self, but just for the sake of some preconceived notion that I may be more well-endowed compared to most men.
Will no one but me be able to see the beautiful dreams that linger on in my mind? Or am I insane to even see the things that I once saw?
I lost alot in one year, and I haven't really accomplished much in 20 years of my life. I'm scared of being another statistic or stereotype, but with the way I act already, it doesn't really help. I guess I try my best to just let it roll off my back, but I end up reinforcing everyones falsified opinions in the long run. I used to want to be a theorhetical astrophysicist, but it seemed almost unecessary because I don't have anything to add to the global commentary, you know? Everything I've said, written, done, it doesn't feel like it came from me, but channelled from some other long gone soul. I'm having a major identity crisis but I don't have time to figure shit out.
I'm a man, thats one thing. But I'm a black man. A black man in america, so I have twice as much I have to do to prove myself. But when I'm sitting here being diagnosed with a million different mental illnesses, its kind of hard. Its one thing to be mentally ill, people see you as broken and sub-human. But to be black, its... its alot worse.
I got so much pressure on my back. Pressure I shouldn't have on me.
Pressure that I shouldn't even allow to phase me.
Its just a scary thought that most women in my life won't even love me for my mind, my heart, my innermost self, but just for the sake of some preconceived notion that I may be more well-endowed compared to most men.
Will no one but me be able to see the beautiful dreams that linger on in my mind? Or am I insane to even see the things that I once saw?
No, everything is not fine.
My whole life is all kinds of fucked up, I'm not doing shit to try and fix it, I can't fix it no matter how hard I try. My efforts mean really nothing, but everything is as if I never put any effort in the first place.
My mind constantly goes in circles, constantly in contemplation over things that shouldn't matter.
So I'm left with nothing but music and my memories and dreams.
But sometimes I wonder if I'm losing both my memories and dreams.
The music helps, but I fear its only nostalgia, not something worth noting.
Everything has lost its luster, but people smile more than I can so I think its just something wrong with me.
I know people hear this alot of times, but I could be in a room full of a thousand smiling faces all directed at me, and still feel like I'm on fuckin pluto.
Its funny because now, it doesn't hurt as much to think about seeing my last day.
My whole life is all kinds of fucked up, I'm not doing shit to try and fix it, I can't fix it no matter how hard I try. My efforts mean really nothing, but everything is as if I never put any effort in the first place.
My mind constantly goes in circles, constantly in contemplation over things that shouldn't matter.
So I'm left with nothing but music and my memories and dreams.
But sometimes I wonder if I'm losing both my memories and dreams.
The music helps, but I fear its only nostalgia, not something worth noting.
Everything has lost its luster, but people smile more than I can so I think its just something wrong with me.
I know people hear this alot of times, but I could be in a room full of a thousand smiling faces all directed at me, and still feel like I'm on fuckin pluto.
Its funny because now, it doesn't hurt as much to think about seeing my last day.
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