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The End
Maybe it’s just the way you make me feel. I feel like no matter what I do it’s never enough, I’m never enough. What are the odds, that someone like me would ever live up to anyone’s standards. Either I’m just not good enough, or who I am is not good enough. Maybe you’re just that hand that holds me back from the time stopping once again. I woke up this morning and I felt like I’ve lived this way before. Because we all have. What knowledge you have gained previous to learning is what knowledge you die with. The humiliation of trying to love all, when you know it is only human to become tainted with hatred and words of cruelty. The time only tells when your beast inside tells you that their wrong, your misanthropic feelings show, no one. And suddenly, their ones who are wrong. Maybe it was just the time’s yesterday was not to become enough of a tomorrow for us all. Nothing was good enough for them, nothing was good enough. Maybe it’s the shame of past regret that comes to take us all away from here. To no where, it is where we belong. No fields of flowers could offer enough tranquility to the tyrant that claw at your eyes. No matter what your last name is, you do not belong to your father or your mother. Your anger does not cease to be calmed by belonging. By doing good to one, you wrong the other. Your sin is the savior to the dying departed and your heart is nothing but a shallow mirror of past memories, hoping to be forgotten in the dawning of the time. Who hears the whispers in your window, no one but your recollection. Do you recall a time when you were ever... Okay? No one does. There was something calling for you in the night and you did follow it, through every departure, its hands had guided you towards the night in which you stand always. Forever sinned and darkened what choices you have concerned yourself with have led you into the oblivion in which you never escape. Sometimes, one comes to see you with a lantern to see if you are still the breathe inside your soul. And yes, for a moment, you do exist to the outside world. Someone knows your there, but they leave. They never stay; they who know that they exist will not stay to cease living. Yet you stay. You do not follow for you do not belong. The darkness is now your home, and forever you dwell where the light is faint and your breath is barely life at all. Your lonely you say, and your love is mistaken. The bench at the end of the alley serves as your place of solitude where your cold skin can touch the nothing that is it. Depression, anger, the hiding of it all. You can fool them, but you cannot fool yourself. It is what you are and no matter how denying it seems justified, you cannot run forever. By the end of the line your panting will grow and the ground will no longer belong beneath your feet. It is the retribution that you have waited for so long for, yet you have never expected it to be here. You say you belong to them, yet you know not of what you speak. You reach for nothing yet you feel something reaching for you. Grasp onto what you can and hopefully the evil inside you has not found you in the lonely hours of the night. You feel remorse, you feel tired, and you feel that nothing could be done. Nothing. Nothing can amount to these feelings. How human your rejoice is, how human your sadness is. How inhumane of you, to think that no one would ever feel the same. No one can live like you have. Once before the guided light had fainted upon and closing of the light and now there is nothing. There was nothing before and what was once your life is nothing. The death of something so trusted to live forever mortifies you. You think that tears of sadness can never feel so much pain, yet they can. You cling onto anything that can be held and nothing even seems the same anymore. The numbness of your eyes, you cannot see. You are blinded by fear, by the feeling that they hated you. Trying to belong, you run away trying to find a stop sign that isn’t red. Maybe a different one, a sign that is different, that maybe you can belong. For once, you cannot. You feel the restraint once again, it holds you, it grips you, and you cannot escape. Accepting your fears, you walk alone once more. Do not traumatize your fears once more, for they shall only burn a darker bruise. If I could feel life inside myself once more, I would breathe until I could no longer feel the restraint of lungs. This room would no longer be so dark and haunting. The red on the wall would not be the blood I forget but the crayons that I drew with. My innocence and ignorance of never knowing how cruel the world can be. The window would not shatter its glass upon my skin, but would let the light shine onto my skin and let me see what real warmth is. Maybe this time, things were meant to be. It’s just how some things go. And I guess, this thing was meant to be quiet and disturbed. The demented silence within would take hold, and then the nothing you are, will become yourself. And then when you lay your head on the pillow, your story done told, it will finally be, the end.
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