How arrogant of me.
To ever think that I am worth something. To think that I’m more than a broken man who decided to live off of a coin flip. To think that I can ever actually do something. To think I could ever be loved or cared for.
I am foolish
I tried to be happy. and I failed
I tried and again, and I failed
This only creates shame in me.
I will not be trying a third time.
I will exist. Rather I will try to exist. There are alternatives to living. The other options are starting to sound increasingly attractive
I can only move so much. I feel closed in and naked. There is no rest for me and my bones are weary. I am tired. I need to rest. It seems to me that life is the exact opposite of resting. It seems like life is growth, development, and movement.
If life can be defined those things, then I must already be dead. I am stagnant. I am stunted by my own pursuits. I am a hollowed out tree just waiting to fall. only those within range will be hurt. only those close to me. I have to keep a certain distance. I have to keep them away. That way I can keep my pain only for myself. I can live with my punishment.
That definition of life doesn’t work for my life. My life is like being starving at a buffet and throwing up everything that I eat.
Never being nurtured
Never feeling satisfied
Always wanting more, but knowing it won’t help
Knowing that there is nothing that can make you feel full.
gorging myself as fast as I can will give me the feeling of fullness, but I will, only be met with the burning taste of my own corrosive insides.