you're standing in the doorway
Sometimes things are going okay and then I have those moments when I get thrown against the wall and my breath escapes me.
These images flash through my head... raging in a tiny glass box, only the glass is bust proof. Or I'm throwing beer/wine bottles down the street but I never get the satisfaction of hearing them shatter or seeing the molotov catch.
Most of the time I wonder if I'm crazy or how long it will take to succumb to the madness... I mean, I know I'm not going to be sane/sober forever. I'm pretty sure that I'm destined for failure, but I just don't know when it'll happen. ....maybe that failure is death and that's why I can't predict it. hm.
Life is, of course, that glass box.... no way out of it... not really, anyway. No way to break free. We are all chained to this life and it's experiences though different they may be.
We are born alone and we die alone - I don't care how many people are in that damn hospital room... no one can go with you. Hold your hand.
I can't quite explain what I feel in my head... I could write essay after essay, post after post and I would never get all of this out... not to where I thought you could understand. Empathize maybe, understand - probably not.
I need so much more stimulation that this current box can provide. I need people with which to talk, argue, fight... but none of that is available to me. They all give up so goddamned easily and slink away to their ripple free ponds.
I hate it all so much.
These images flash through my head... raging in a tiny glass box, only the glass is bust proof. Or I'm throwing beer/wine bottles down the street but I never get the satisfaction of hearing them shatter or seeing the molotov catch.
Most of the time I wonder if I'm crazy or how long it will take to succumb to the madness... I mean, I know I'm not going to be sane/sober forever. I'm pretty sure that I'm destined for failure, but I just don't know when it'll happen. ....maybe that failure is death and that's why I can't predict it. hm.
Life is, of course, that glass box.... no way out of it... not really, anyway. No way to break free. We are all chained to this life and it's experiences though different they may be.
We are born alone and we die alone - I don't care how many people are in that damn hospital room... no one can go with you. Hold your hand.
I can't quite explain what I feel in my head... I could write essay after essay, post after post and I would never get all of this out... not to where I thought you could understand. Empathize maybe, understand - probably not.
I need so much more stimulation that this current box can provide. I need people with which to talk, argue, fight... but none of that is available to me. They all give up so goddamned easily and slink away to their ripple free ponds.
I hate it all so much.