Listless Leaves
Hmmmmm. The leaves are dying... It's kind of sad. Though a lot of people see the falling leaves as beautiful, I dunno. *shrug*
I want to be released from this emptiness I feel inside. *sigh* I want to feel alive... How can I do that?
I keep telling myself "You may as well face it, we have nothing."
I want to fill the void with light. Really I do. But the sun has burnt out. The world has ended. The moon has been destroyed. The sky has fallen. The stars have been swallowed by the blackness of space. ... Or maybe I'm just blind. It's all there, but it's too far away anyway.
The place where I go to therapy is going out of business. I wonder faintly where that leaves me. Tis kind of a shame. Although I dislike psychiatrists, I did like my therapist. He was a nice man.
At home, I'm really so bored. But, I hate wallowing in my own filth like I do every day. Though I suppose I don't hate it enough to stop... I want to burn out my eyes in fantasy, but constantly watching movies, reading manga, and the like has left me physically dead. The only thing I think about now is money.
I can barely remember before, when I used to dream. I used to wish and hope. I miss loving. I miss hating. I miss caring. I miss worrying. Though, I can't very well miss it as easily if I don't remember it very well. I remember the pain was worth it. This pain right now... it's not worth jack shit. It's just worthlessness.
With time, anyone can get out of any rut, but it takes some effort. I'm finding it harder and harder to motivate myself to do anything anymore. What was it I strived for? Where has it gone? It's days like these I feel so very alone. I miss everyone...
I can't bring myself to hate anymore. I know, deep inside, there's a side of me that hates you. There's a side of me that wishes I had never met you. But he's too tired to open his eyes. He's too tired to hear your voice. Hate dumbs down to become a dull headache.
I become lost in the motions. I can't even follow a routine anymore. What's the point? I can't even be a coward anymore. At least when I was a coward, it meant I cared. Even if I was suicidal trash, it meant there was something inside. But now? I feel like I'm lower than that. Lower than trash. At least when I wanted to die, I tried for something.
I woke up this morning wondering to myself, "What would it mean for someone to truly love someone anyway?" Accepting me for who I am? But who am I? Right now, I'm just a body. Moving from point A to point B. Listen/read/watch for set time X. Move from point B to point A. Sleep for set time Y.
I used to think about the future. Though, and idealized version of it. But now I think it's not possible for even a fragment of that. With that hopelessness, I begin to worsen my situation by becoming emptier. Thus creating a cycle of feeling down in the dumps for being hopeless, doing nothing out of hopelessness, repeat. No, not "Rinse. Repeat." At least in that case, I start fresh.
I began to hear sympathy from people who care. It makes me sad. I began to hear anger from people who care. It makes me sad. What am I... even looking for? Your attention is becoming less and less appealing to this wannabe drama-queen attention-whore. No. Now I just wish I wasn't. No, I don't want to die. I just want to stop thinking.
... When I woke up this morning, I wished I didn't wake up. I lie there, for an hour, hiding from reality. I dreamed of being among a bunch of hostages. The building was surrounded by the police. The kidnappers interrogated me first. They asked me "Who is the person I am looking for?" I didn't say. They began to beat me. Then decided to start water torture. They didn't realize I don't know how to hold my breath underwater. I drowned in a minute or two. They threw my dead body out of the building and began interrogating the next man. The next man looked down at his hands and said sadly, "The boy you killed was the person you were looking for."
I lie there, listless and unblinking. The water covering my face focused into a single point and then fell from across my cheek. It looked as though I was crying.
My writer's block is gone... But I don't feel motivated to write anymore. I faintly wish I knew how to draw.
I should be studying for midterms. I have two more on Thursday... But I... I want to run away without saying good bye. I want to get hit with something really hard and have amnesia. I want to fall into a deep sleep and wake up when everything isn't so empty anymore. I want to go back to when everything was simpler. It seems I want more than I thought...
But never mind. Instead, my mission is to change things, so it won't be empty anymore. I wonder where I can find the motivation to begin my mission. But then, I wonder, even if I have the drive or motivation, how do I change things anyway? How do I become happy? It becomes instead "Even if I try, I still don't even know what to do." No one can tell me, either.
People say things like "You have to figure that out for yourself." Or "Get a hobby." But really, am I... so hard to please? Am I just... picky? Am I fickle? Am I petty? What is it? Why can't I be happy? Or rather, why won't I let myself be happy? Or not even happy... Satisfied? Content? Okay? Something?
I've thrown away a lot of opportunities. I feel as though it's too late for me now. Logic dictates I've only lived a fourth of my life. Lines of text somewhere in my head say "It's never too late." Right now, it's just beginning, right? Well, even if I'm off to a bad start, I can still finish the race, huh? Maybe not in first place, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is crossing the finish line.
I don't care to move my legs. I don't even know how. Everyone is watching me sit down at the starting line. Am I crying? Why is everyone so far away? People are trying to help me up, but I'm still looking back. I'm still looking at that starting line, wishing I could try again. I close my eyes and dream.