The weariness is heavy on my chest.
It’s hard to breathe and I just want to close my eyes and lose myself to whatever maniacal rumination my mind can conjure up in between the dark and the day.
I keep thinking about her but I asked whoever exists beyond the clouds and the feeling in my gut was that I should stay away.
I don’t know if it was the doings of the cogs in my head or an impulse or the voice of god but I know it’s not right, I know I shouldn’t continue to torture myself over something which is so convoluted and has no basis in proceeding in the future of a reality I want so bad it hurts.
It takes time to come to your senses, it takes time to breathe in the air of the morning and find the voice of reason.
What am I expecting to happen anyway? Happiness? Good luck with that.
Both of us are too young even though the years are so strong.
I have no reason to go back other than to breathe in that drug, that smile, and doing so would complicate everything.
I need to let it go. I want to let it go but she still haunts me in the mornings before the full weight of the day has landed on my shoulders.
The mornings are when I used to see her and to slowly loosen the furious grasp on that impossibility is something I need to come to terms with.
I’m holding on so hard and I have to tell my fingers to relax, slowly, until the smoke can drift away.
Don’t listen to these words though, they are the result of years of desperation and the loneliness that comes in the dark after the sun sets.
It sticks around in the mornings though.
She was like this need.
This thing I couldn’t let go of.
I needed the rush of that look, that way her eyes widened.
I tortured myself for days about it, trying to get a handle on something that wasn’t right for either of us.
The years between us would’ve hurt, they would’ve been too much for those looks and those widened eyes to sustain.
It’s for that reason that I chose to quit her, to move on even though every fiber in my being told me not to, told me to at least try.
I did my part though, long before I knew it wasn’t right, I made the effort but she didn’t follow through and even after that I wanted nothing else in the world but to just see her face.
My time in that place was overspent though, occasionally turned to frequent and before I knew it I became keenly of how it smelled, how it made my clothes stink. I became aware of the mugginess of it all and the way my skin felt when I stayed there for too long.
I had moved from the place but that smile kept me coming back for much longer than I should have.
The need is still there, don’t get me wrong, but it’s calmed down a bit, it’s become more muted with every day that goes by and I know that if I just stay away, regardless of the wanting, things will get better and I’ll see a new smile that sends lightning through my heart, that kills me and takes my last breath because there’s more than one fish in the sea.
I walk through this life, the forced smile.
The confidence which never used to come naturally, but I use it and I know that it’s nothing more than a tool.
A function of forming a place in this world where I don’t have to feel like I’m outside.
It gives me a place to stand but I could do just as well without it.
I don’t feel the need to fight so much anymore. I don’t feel the need to escape so much anymore and I wonder if it’s just that time of year or if it’s what I’ve done with my life that gives me the ability to not be afraid of the frivolous.
I’m learning to not devote my time to things which won’t come through. I’m learning to be comfortable with these things too because I’ve already made a mark. I have my pride.
I’ve been talking to an old friend lately, one who I was enamored with all through middle and high school and she’s off in some other country changing the world and we just aren’t the same people we used to be and that spark isn’t there anymore.
Life is big, and it changes slowly over the years and you grow into something strong and you wonder where all that fear went, you wonder where all the sadness went and you kind of miss it because there was a kind of warmth in being so unsure of yourself that you’d do anything.
I don’t need that hunger anymore, I’ve eaten. I’m satisfied and it’s just small steps from here on out.
I write about things that happened in the past and how hard it was and it’s a good reminder of the places I’ve been but I’m ok now.
I don’t have to prove anything anymore.
I still love the woods though and I still want to dissolve into them and leave this world of frivolity behind but I’m ok for now.
Too much life is hard. I know that better than anybody.
Life comes fast for people with mental illness.
It has a way of blowing past you like a bullet that just barely grazes your shoulder. The thing about this bullet though is that it doesn’t keep going only to end at some unnamed target.
If it sees that it missed you it will turn around and come twice as fast the other way aiming for your heart, This bullet also never makes the same mistake twice. It won’t miss you the second time around.
That’s life. That’s how it is with the endless parade of waking up, doing things and then waiting for the dreams to come again, it’s so trite, it’s so nothing, but then sometimes it’s more than you can handle. Life is just what you do because you do it. Unless you have the backwards courage to decide to put an end to it.
But what would that do? Sure, it would take you out of it but then where would you go?
Maybe there’s a heaven where all your family waits for you and where everything is great but it kind of seems more likely that once you take that step, it’s all just black deep nothing.
Personally I’d rather have the parade of boring days then even the possibility of nothing.
And if there is a heaven, I’m sure it’ll still be there when my time comes.
Who’s to say the endless days won’t bring you something good though?
Maybe it’s an opportunity with a fat paycheck, maybe it’s the peace you’ve been looking for all your life at a quiet house in the woods, maybe it’s even the smile of a cute girl with so much possibility behind it that you can barely get to sleep at night.
Either way, there’s no harm in sticking around until the day comes when it is your time.
Even if shit sucks, I can guarantee that if you just keep waking up, even if that’s your one and only victory for the day, the shiftiness will pass and you’ll feel ok.
Just please don’t end things on an impulse you get when you’re lost in the thick of it. You will find your way out.
I hate summer, and it drags on, these days of hard sun falling on the back of my neck, reminding me that tomorrow it’s gonna be exactly the same and, really, what’s the point of even trying anymore if that thing, that drug you so desperately need to stay sane continues to elude you.
I want to be cold.
I don’t want to have to squint, I want the wind to brush across my face and I want that quiet chill to take hold of my bones.
I think that maybe when the fall comes all this shit will be over, all the manic thoughts that careen through my mind and won’t fucking leave me alone, and remind me so damn much of that smile.
It’s cool in the mornings now though, it’s better.
It’s only a matter of time.
We all think about suddenly disappearing.