Chronicles Of The Battles Of My Mind—Lifeless

Like a magnet, the keys on this keyboard have successfully seduced me to write again. I have been, for the most part of the day, very quiet. I have been secluded. Somehow, the company of others did not sit well with me today and I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to be far away; I wanted to evaporate.

Conflicts are generally a challenge when you are not expecting them. But, sometimes these conflicts do not get to us. There are times when these internal controversies simply make themselves known as they have always been there, hidden all the time. There are random instances when this type of warfare is not created, but rather exposed. They exist with you…they live in you.

In my case, these are not breaking news. There is no surprise here. Unwillingly, I have been part of an internal struggle that dates way back into time. The path in which I find myself walking on is no novelty. I wish I could articulate upon it, and explain myself better, but it is simply impossible. As a result of this, I have an array of feelings; I sometimes feel confused, desperate, sad, but most of the time I just feel full of anger, full of rage; full of hate!

These feelings are not necessarily aimed towards anyone in particular, they are aimed towards me. I am my own target of all displeasure and discontent. I somehow have developed an undeniable taste of understanding the fact that I do not know me, and the little that I have seen, I hate! I am not sure where all of this originated from, but nevertheless is real and annoyingly effective. I click nowhere, I click with no one. I am admired as a museum exhibit way too valuable to be touched, way too pricey to be exposed. Beloved and admired from a distance!

I am part of a rare breed called: the "too good to be true", and for that reason, carefully unaccepted; a collector’s item too costly to own, too risky to invest on. I am what everybody likes, but no one really needs. I am what everybody wants, but can’t really see. These ritual of practical good deeds and every-day-goodwill yield nothing for me, and the more I seem to give, the less I get in return! I feel as though the more life I make others feel, the shorter mine gets.

I have been in hell for most part of the day, because the only person I can’t seem to get along with is I! My heart hurts, my lungs beg for ai

r, and my mind screams for lucidity! I am in a whirlpool of desperation and every heartbeat marks one wasted pulse instead of more life. I am unable to reason with life and understand what, and who I am. Quite the contradiction, when deep inside I have to admit, I have begun to care less. I really don’t give a damn any more. I will more than likely never get there.

Like a magnet, the keys on this keyboard have successfully seduced me to write again, and I have to admit, it might have turned out to be a therapy. I needed to vent, I needed to talk to someone. I taste my tears once again, and the deadly salty flavors they carry remind me of such a painful and heartbreaking reality: I am changing. I do not feel the same anymore; I do not dream or wish anymore. I am for the most part of my existence, pretending to be, when I am certainly feeling like not much, when I am feeling rejected; feeling lacking, broken, empty…simply lifeless!


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