The Temptation Of Silence

Time Is A Flat Circle

Nothing has changed since 10 years ago.

I am still that child who can do no right.

I still remember those same fears.

Fears of you. Fears of them. Fears of it.

I still remember those same people.

People who yell. People who hate. People who don't care.

I still make those same mistakes.

Rush-job, know-I-shouln't-but-I-do, idiotic mistakes.

I still beat myself up for it and do your job for you.

The yelling, the crying, the emptiness in the soul.

I still hate myself just the same.

Treating myself like shit, calling myself like shit, selling myself like shit.

I still love you all just the same.

Emptying my bucket for you, burning myself at the stake, taking your place in the gutter.

I still sort of want to kill myself.

The freedom, the release, the escape.

I still am a coward.

The fear, the chains, the inaction.

I am still that child who does only wrong.

Nothing has changed since 10 years ago.

Me talking to the therapist voice in my head

"okay, so what do you say when someone says they're not worth anything"

"Who the hell says they're worthless I'll fight them" "Alright, now what should you think when you're the one that feels like you're worthless" "Well I'd be right, I am worthless" "no-"

How Much of Me Is the Real Me

How much of me is the real me

and how much is what you put in there?

How much of me is what I really really want

and how much is what you've told me to want?

What part of me is the real, genuine article

and what part is the seeds you've planted?

What part of me is my blood, sweat, and tears

and what part is the loan you gave to a grave with my name on it?

Which notes in my melody come from my own mind and thought

and which notes are copied from a song I already forgot?

Which notes in my melody are beautiful, strong, soft, and cheery

and which notes are the discord you've sown?

What part of me is the part gives and seeks love?

and what part is the one that hates all it sees?

What part of me is the part that I should keep?

and what part should I leave behind?

How much of me is the real me?

and how much is your god-damned meddling?

Finally did it this time.

3rd time’s the charm.

today i am going to run on the treadmill until either my lungs or my legs give out

the pain will remind me to exist

hmmmm... should I deprive myself of human interaction...?

Depression is a Drug

Depression is a drug

and I think I have become addicted

To that sense of despair.

It tells me, softly:

"it's okay. Nothing matters anymore."

"You can be as lazy as you want."

But what's more is that

I have built up a tolerance

and it no longer excites me.

I am no longer enthralled

By the infinite sadness.

I am only bored by it.

I want for more.

I hope for the moments that crush my soul.

The moments where the guilt and anger and sadness come in waves.

I look for the moments where my soul goes dark and my heart empties out.

But I am stuck in the quagmire of boring, base sadness.

and I am still controlled by it.

I Have Not Changed

I still carry

that fear of you

of your dissappointment and

anger.

I still fail

to see what is important

what I need to be doing and

how I can do it better.

I still wait

for salvation to deliver me

instead of moving my own

two legs to walk

I still think

that I can fix myself

even though time has shown that

I cannot get up alone.

I still hope

to never be a burden

nevermind the burden I am

to the world I take from.

I still allow

my passions to be tainted

by approval, by fear, by time

as I run myself ragged for you.

I still shudder

when I hear a ping

wondering whether it is praise

or deep, vitriolic scorn

I still fear

that the beautiful, wonderful, spectacular people around me

will retract their blessings

and leave me godless.

I still fear that I am not worth a second of your time.

Why Should I Care About Him

Why should I care about him? C'mere. Just look at this train wreck.

Ugly face. UUUUUGLY fucking face. Cmon. Have you seen this guy? He looks like every single kind of criminal's face averaged into a final composite. A face only a mother could love, except not even that - his mother is trying to fix it as we speak! Hah!

Fatass belly. Musculature of a rat. Those arms you see? Maybe a twentieth is muscle, the rest is fat. Can barely handle 15 pound dumbbells, what a fucking weakling.

His terrible posture. Back hunched over like he's 90 years old and about to croak, reinforcing his own negative self-image. Eyes empty like his brain, completely numb to reality.

And what about the mind? Well, what about it? He's a fucking dolt. Can't do anything well, refuses to work hard, just escapes everything.

Why, I'd almost go so far as to say that he's the product of nothing but childhood trauma and bad coping mechanisms developed in response to that trauma, except he might also be dealing with some undiagnosed autism and ADHD and those two aren't really his fault.

And look at him even now. Hiding away, refusing to deal with his problems, just writing and yelling and wallowing in despair like a fucking sewer rat, afraid of even asking his time-tested friends for support or help. Instead he just screams into the meaningless void like it's gonna do anything. Newsflash, bub, it ain't doin shit!

He's even gotten himself stuck in a circular loop! He thinks he doesn't deserve good things, he thinks he doesn't deserve to be happy, or be loved, or be human, and this sort of thinking makes him undeserving of those things, and he knows that, and he keeps on thinking it because he wants to not deserve those things! This sort of negative circular reasoning is like getting hit by a parked car; just don't!

And he talks like he's the only one with these problems, like he's the only one who'll ever understand, as he looks right into the faces of everyone who's ever had worse, and tells them that he has it bad, like the whole world has been bullying him specifically instead of him choosing to dig further into the pit.

He thinks he's martyring himself! Like his own suffering makes anyone any happier! (Well, it evidently makes his father happier, but that's besides the point.) What a joke! Come around, everybody, look! An idiot! Let's all point and laugh!

He's not even doing it correctly! All that happens when he talks is he starts fucking venting and making everyone else upset at him and feel bad. If you're really martyring yourself, why even say anything if you don't have something positive to say? Just be a good person and die quietly in the ditch. Shut up about your problems, everyone else has it way worse and doesn't need you adding to it.

Anyways, as you can clearly see, this lil fucker is completely worthless. Waste of air and oxygen. I'd tell him to just jump, except he doesn't even know where his nearest bridge is and hasn't bothered to search it up. What a fucking failure. Tell me, seriously, why should I ever care about him?

Oh. Wait.

That's a mirror.

I Ask

I repeat my lamentations forevermore

as I repeat the same actions

that create this melancholy suffering.

I ask, "Where has all the joy in the world gone?"

while I push it away and reject every inch

for I am afraid of allowing spring

into my frozen, quiet winter.

I ask, "Where have all the good men gone?"

as I fail to see that I myself

am not a good man,

and thus see little good in others.

I ask, "What can I do to make the right choices?"

as I look at the choices in front of me

the correct one obvious to my discerning eye

and choose the shortsighted option again.

I ask, "How can I be better?"

as I ignore the hard, effortful path to victory

the path taken by everyone else who won

and simply hope greatness will fall onto my silver platter

I ask, "Where is someone who will love me?"

as I fail to see the good in myself

and forget that love, like charity,

starts from within.

I reach for the bright future

and I fall just one inch short

It is good enough. I have done enough.

But it is all unraveling back again.

I changed my direction.

I chose the better path.

I worked towards truly living.

So why is it falling back apart?

I convinced myself I could be happy.

I convinced myself I was allowed to be happy.

I convinced myself it would be better to be happy.

So why do I feel like I deserve to suffer?

Do I have anything to say for myself?

Do I have some sort of penance to offer?

Do I regret my choice, or only that I failed?

Should I regret my existence, too?

was the pie in the sky just another fucking lie?