When did you come in?
Not through that door. It wasn’t this year, was it? Or was it two years ago? I don’t remember. I can’t really make my own decisions anymore. All the made up things are eating me alive.
I feel like I can’t let loose anymore. But as far as I can remember, did I ever? Probably not. Normal as can be. Although, nothing ever was normal. Don’t talk to me for pleasure, as a chat, as before. That’s changed.
Now it’s for need, for rehabilitation of the mind. But not mine. It’s all crystal clear in my mind. Blame it on the air, the distance. It doesn’t even exist. It’s not real. But it’s the force that’s keeping me with my eyes open. It’s the one that’s taking you away from me. But this isn’t a game, it’s real. And it’s all crystal clear in my mind.
But I want to know what you think. When did things become diff6erent? Why is it all gone? And sitting in this chair, you essence is somewhere here, surrounding me, and so I know I don’t live.
It’s like forgetting the words… of your favorite song. You can’t believe it, you were always singing along. It was so… easy, and the words so sweet. You can’t remember, you try to feel the beat. And so I spend half of my life trying to fall behind. And so I use my headphones and try to drown out the sound. That sound in my mind. But it just doesn’t work.
I became addicted, and I just couldn’t get enough of the lies, the noise, and my heart beating fast. Hard. I can’t.
But I think all I need is time to think. I can’t, though. Ever. Things turned into a blur a while ago. I can’t seem to find the right lens to focus in. And I’m sorry if I caused a distraction, or any ‘fore felt melancholy. I know I did. I caused problems. I caused harm, hurt, and pain. And most of all, I caused hate. Nothing left to ruin, because there was nothing there on the first place.
I want the silence to continue. I don’t wanna leave. But I don’t want this to drag on. I want to scream, shout, cry. Cry with the tears I seem to hide. Hide on my pillow, washing away. Hid under my pillow like I do, waiting for the rising sun to be once again.
Like a dollar, I carry around love. Like a quarter, I carry around hate. Like a dime, I carry around what is planted, what right now is being explained. My mind. As a nickel, I carry around the straps of cloth, or words. The unfinished letters from before. Before when everything was fine. Good. Sane. And as a penny, I carry you around. The most common to find laying on the street. The one that is barely used. Most common to find in your pocket. The one that is everywhere. The one no one can miss. The one you need.
Sorry, i made a mistake. Did I? Or is it just the need that i feel to apologize? Sorry, but no one is actually perfect.
No doubt, I have this feeling of living hell but who knows if I can actually live through that? Who knows if I am actually here? Who knows if I have hopes and dreams like everyone else? Who knows if this is actually all a dream and when we supposedly die, we wake up? No one. Is what I am saying wrong? I never misinterpreted anything. But it seems like I did.