The long avoided trip into the black sea of desolation that is my brain. Swimming in it's engulfing waters, pulling and seducing me deep into the trenches. The water sticking to my skin and hair like oil and sludge, weighing me down. Oh how easy it would be if sleep was an escape. But no, sleep is the gray showers that thunders above this angry sea. The scariest thing is that in sleep I cannot control how deep I go into the dark places. So at night I lie in bed with my eyes open and my brain lucid, hoping that I won't swim towards the foreboding storm. These fucking dreams, i cannot fucking take them anymore. And in the day, despite the constant fatigue and listlessness, I stay awake and return home to nothing but emptiness and this growing feeling of dissatisfaction. I knew it, everything was just a distraction. It never goes away. Blood can only explain so much. It sucks that I take your opinion so seriously, especially since I know what it's like to suddenly be missing of it (always with the metaphor of the rotting arm). But your words, they entice me to believe that I am stronger than this. A surprising illusion of simplicity. You are truly a piece art and sad to say, still a foreign concept to me.. for now I hope. It's a combination of too much alone time, too many disconnections, too many fights, the feeling that something's missing and too much talk about the future. Why can't I do anything by my fucking self?
What have we found?
The same old fears?
Wish you were here.
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