Floating on the brink of everything isn't much fun at all. Deviating from feelings and real conversation leaves a gaping hole between me and the world. Late night messages mean nothing to me by morning. And maybe they mean nothing to you at all. Nights are filled with internal battles. Fleeting moments of fear and unfulfilled desire for companionship. Days are spent having empty conversation and not-going-to-school. Bleak. Once again I have proved myself the least filial child. Oops. Everyday company is no where near as important to me as non-everyday company. Maybe this is what they call the dreaded drift. Or maybe this is just me isolating myself. Or maybe it really isn't me at all. Hurhur. This isn't a blame game, this is just me searching for the truth, the source of this emptiness. Disinterest is a two-way street, I must admit. Insomnia is so fucking damaging.We all look like we feel.
No comments:
Post a Comment