Where I’ve been as of late

I have no inspiration or motivation to write anymore or be poetic. I tried to grasp control of my life as it unraveled slowly. My mentality has shifted and complex thoughts are becoming darker than ever. My eyelids are constantly heavy, my heart is never content and I crave destructive things. This repetition of my past repeating itself. I’ve become a foreigner to the words I used to write, now I just write these lack luster phrases that I’ve forced myself to write because I hope they will push me further out of this state I’m in. The more I push, the more I become frustrated with my cruelly put together paragraphs. Late nights where I get to do battle with my frantic inner child and over obsessive heart until the sun rises again. I don’t fear the way I’m steering myself toward the ground. I’m unsure of where I’m going because of the pain I’ve felt that has made my eyes colder and much emptier, my vision isn’t clear. I’m going to crash sooner or later and I know that when I do I’ll find some soothing asylum in crashing and the destruction of my current state. History will repeat itself and I’ll be back in this state that is my vicious cycle, which is meant for me and me alone. I don’t another person to ever envy me or be jealous or to even aspire to be like I am. The things I’ve been through and seen aren’t mean to be shared or spoken about. So I try and lead people on other paths because the one I’m on is much darker than the realities that others lead. I’ve been trying to write inspirational, warm hearted prose but to no avail I’ve only been gridlocked within these dark and bitter words. If I serve sentences within my mind I’ll release things that come out haunting to the eyes of people. I’ve become a slave to the darker thoughts that have consumed my brighter mentality.

You expect witty refutes to simple minded comments and statements or romantic melodies for the ears of a woman without a love. A strong distaste for myself and women that I encounter at times: I try to never be misogynistic. Submerge myself in everyone else’s bitter dilemmas to drown out my own hoping to kill apart of myself and elevate above it and look down at everything that happened in reprise.

Tandem thoughts that I rummage through to find something that will make it better, a few thoughts that I can’t finish. Hoping that evening strolls and isolation will fix everything.

This is just where I’ve been lately, I’m not taking advice. I’ve been here before and I can find a spot to be content in without empathetic phrases from seemingly kind people.


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