Ceiling

Ceiling

06/03/2020

The black ceiling calls,

The silence aborbs all.

The thoughts are just dying,

But that black ceiling is memorizing.

In it you see a future you desire,

Now all burned up in greed’s fire.

There’s even smiles of the past,

But now they aren’t around, they didn’t last.

The gray ceiling begins to bloom,

This bed begins to feel like a tomb.

“You’re alone,” your mind repeats,

It’s reconfirmed as your heart alone beats.

The gray isn’t the black,

But doesn’t mean it stops you from wanting to go back.

How do you step forwards from this place?

So much is lost. So much more to face.

But then the white ceiling arrives.

Night is over. You survived.

Being alone can be, being strong.

The past may be full of hurts and wrongs.

But the present, it is a gift.

Time to heal and the wrongs to lift.

No matter how long the black,

Or the gray that always comes back.

The white will always come with the sun.

A reminder the despair hasn’t won.

Covering Void

Is it funny how something broken stops feeling? – The Broken

The only emotions I contain or ever seem to feel are rage and bitterness. I cry out that life isn’t fair or people are the problem. Everyone else needs to grow up and live their lives. I’m an angry child too proud to back down when I know I’m wrong. What happened to me?

I want to blame everyone who wronged me in ways only I can formulate an understanding of. To yell at God, who made me such a low confidence, unfortunate loser. It’s not my fault. I’m the victim… in truth I’m the asshole. I’m the one who continues to sabotage relationships. Push away family. Shut myself off from the outside world. Embrace the void and pray it ends.

I am my own worst enemy. The sad part is I know it, yet I cannot beat myself. I am always one step ahead. My lofty ideas of sacrifice and compassion will forever be shrouded by pride and selfishness.

Since I was young I’ve raced towards becoming the man I am while spouting ideals that were contrary to the notion. I still believe I can be a good man, but I don’t know what catalyst I need to change. To stop the void from spreading. Darkness covers me, yet I still cling to the dimming light. It is dying though.

No Hero

When I was young, I would never have thought I’d be who I am today. In fact, my child self would probably tell me to be happy. Would probably go out of his way to try to make my day better. He did that for a lot of people. Sometimes selflessly other times hoping the girl would like him or the person would be his friend. He would have willing taking on the worlds suffering, because he cared.

But now there is me. That child has grown into a monster. Full of venom and rage. I always thought I’d be a hero, but I’m much closer to a villain, but society makes it so easy does it not? Everyone is so selfish and just pieces of shit. I look at people and they aren’t worth saving. They treat each other like crap and use whatever excuse is relevant at the time to do so.

I just lied. Stopped typing to lie to someone. Didn’t think twice. Just did it. Why? I wouldn’t have when I was younger or I would have felt a massive guilt about it. Now it is so easy and those pieces of shit I hate; I am one of them. As a kid I saw the villains and I believed they could be good. That good was greater than evil.

When we are born we are empty. Neither good nor evil. So why am I so filled with evil. I want to blame the world, but I’m not even part of this world any longer. None of it belongs to me. I belong to none of it. In fact it may be my enemy, whether I’m the hero or the villain is yet to be seen, but years ago a kid would have believed I could be the hero.

Man Before You

We all need a friend, but some are always needy. – Robert Joseph

You look in the eyes of the person in the front of you,

He looks back into yours too.

You feel lost and like your all alone,

This man, too, seems to be on his own.

You ask him, “Why love never seems to stay.”

He doesn’t respond just miserably looks away.

You tell him you feel misery and pain,

When all your strength for love is in vain.

Still no answer.

Tears show in his lonely blue eyes,

Like he lost the star shining in his night sky.

You tell him a girl causes you pain tonight,

How, for some stupid reason, without her nothing seems right.

The tears in his eyes push out,

Is this, too, what his pain is about?

You take a deep breath and again begin to speak,

“She made me feel so strong, but now so weak.

Do you know what it’s like to have no hope with a girl like this?”

You know he does when whiteness fills both his fists,

And one lonely tear rolls down his face.

His eyes look lost and empty as space.

The tears just begin streaming from his eyes,

You realize you, too, have started to cry.

You try to comfort him and yourself,

You say, “If we become friends maybe it won’t hurt worse than anything else.”

He bitterly and doubtfully laughs about what was just said,

You, too, feel great doubt in your head.

You now realize the man that stands before you,

Is just a mirror, a reflection you wish wasn’t true,

Because the man in the mirror is you.

This is Breaking Down

I want to write something to change my own life. Nothing I’ve written has been for anyone else. I want praise. I want meaning. I want someone to notice me. I want some one to say I’ve been there. To say they understand what it’s like to be like me. Its all about I, My, Mine, and Me. I’m a selfish asshole who wants people to care, but doesn’t have time to care about anyone else. I want to say here, “I wasn’t always this person”, but that is a lie. Was I ever nice for anyone but me? Was God ever real or just a vise? Did I care only when it mattered to me? Convenience. A show. A fake. Me.

I’m a pretender. A type of person I shit on without realizing that person is me. I can blame life, people, circumstance, or fate; but in the end I’m to blame. I don’t finish anything, I just exist. I hate existing. Life isn’t suppose to be hard. It’s not suppose to be complicated. Everyone else does it, but I fuck it up. My whole life I’ve been waiting for something big, but never doing anything big. I’ve lost touch with so many people, and I only see how it effects me. Because I’m a selfish piece of shit.

Megan, the first girl I obsessed over. Is it where I fucked up? Obsession not confidence? A shy introvert who thinks having morals actually matters. A fucking loser who couldn’t talk to girls. I fucking hate that guy. I hate him, but now I’m this man. Fucking broken. A wreck. Not some wreck you can’t turn away from, but one that has been there so long you don’t even notice it anymore. Just junk on the side of the road.

What do I need? Maybe a new question.

For all who read this. Never become me.

A day off

Long hours and slow minutes make for a mediocre day. You work your life away for a day off, but when it comes there is nothing to look forwards to. The games aren’t enough, the shows not adequate anymore, and the only company is the silence. A lonely ever coming silence. Your texts are left hanging. Conversations over before they have begun. Refreshing the page doesn’t give you anymore likes or love, but rather assurance that you are, without doubt, alone. You dream of a day off only to live the nightmare it brings. There is no joy in this loneliness.

Solitude. Stifling solitude. Strangling, suffocating solitude. Shocking, startling, savage solitude. The walls begin to close and the noise of the outside world is a distant thing that you want to be a part of, but people scare you. You scares you. When did making conversation become pointless, and companionship taxing. Has living a life always been this hard? Have thoughts always been this heavy?

Give it a rest. No one is listening. You’re just talking to yourself again and the argument is always the same. You can see the future. The one you desire in your mind. The person you want to be, but we know it’s a lie. A truth without truth. A wish of who you are, but who you will never be. Just sit there. Unsatisfied and unhappy waiting for something. Thinking of someone. Hoping for dramatic change. Soon work will be here again, and the desire for a day off will be back. The loneliness to follow.

If we are meant to struggle alone; we will do it together. – The companion within