In the End

Goddamn, I just wrote this awesome thing and then hit a button and lost it all. Story of my life. Such effort for something meaningful and then one wrong move and *poof it’s all gone. 

Any small good thing that ever happens to me is bound to be followed with something about a thousand times worse right on its heels. Or I’ll find a unique way to turn it into something just awful and lose my stupid mind over it. 

I’m all missed connections and wires that aren’t hooked up quite right. Gears not lining up properly, hearts just that split second off beat. Breaths too early, or too late. Too many blinks, with nothing of substance in between. No way to escape this cerebral, grey-scale half dream. 

Why stand, why walk – why move at all. When it’s all painted in the same ghastly pallor of nonexistence and ineffectual ignorance. 

Heart beats.

Heart beats itself to death.

That’s the kind of poetry I write. The kind that has you bleeding from both wrists before you realize you’re even holding the razor blade. And that maybe it’s been in your hand all along – just waiting. 

I can feel the weight upon my chest. My lungs seem to forget how to breathe. Or why. 

People don’t believe me when I tell them. Because I wear the masks so well. I can even fool myself, because I have to. There’s nothing else for me to do. But sometimes it just pulls me down, sucks me under and makes me remember all the demons I carry on my back. They scream my name and claw into what little flesh I have left. Preying on my tired mind and lurking in its shadowy corners. 

Nobody understands. There’s nobody to talk to. So I just have to pretend they’re not there, the demons. Until one day I can’t, and they come for me. In light, or darkness, it won’t make a shred of difference. When I break again it will be permanent and there will be no going back and no recovery. Because there won’t be anything left.

2 thoughts on “In the End”

  1. Dear Kiitsu18: Your intellect is largely recognized in this entry. The way you describe your poetry reminds me of how I used to pen mine back when I was in a bad relationship. The same ghastly pallor … , I know that one very well myself. The redundant days, the long never-ending nights only to repeat over the course of years. It does something to a person, yes. But, it doesn’t completely kill you unless you let it. They don’t understand me either and I too gaze upon a sea of grey blips standing where they should be people and though, I’d often hope for at least one to stand out from the sea – I understood that first I had to step outside of it, myself.

  2. Let some time go by. Things can get better, I know from experience. DON’T hurt yourself—that just leads to deeper hurt. Ask God to take you under His wing and teach you Life and how to fly. He is real, and He loves you. Forever. He is watching over you and waiting eagerly for you to come to Him, seek to know Him, and let Him help you. Prayers and love…. Grace.

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