Time slips through my outstretched hand, and I try to grasp at its tail, but those lines are just wisps of smoke, and they roll over my fingers, kissing my knuckles, tickling the scars on my wrists, spiraling up and around my neck, filling my ears with the sound of my own beating heart as I struggle with every breath to let loose those 3 words I’ve never told this lonely soul… even here, at the end of all things, I can’t greet my reflection with any kindness. This is my last chance to say something, to do something that matters, and I’m going to waste it. In this space between what I was and what I can never be, I’ll leave behind these borrowed dreams, the reflection I wish I could have seen.
It doesn’t matter now.
Nothing matters now.
All I ever needed was a dark room and this blanket of loneliness. So of course I hated you, the part of me that dared to dream. You rushed into my world, arrogant in your assumption that we deserve to be loved. All you ever managed to do was hold me down while I slowly suffocated in your delusion of hope. Times up. It’s time to go. No goodbyes are needed between a demon and his shadow.
I don’t know how to forgive myself, and I’ve been so down on myself for so many years, I accepted that I probably won’t ever be able to forgive myself. Some days I can face this realization without any fuss, but in my weaker moments my mind wanders, and I end up dreaming of stupids things I know are forever out of my reach.
I want a family. I want to fall in love, to give everything I have to make something spectacular. I want to spoil my future spouse the day after Valentine’s with 50% of chocolates. I want to spend holidays with in-laws where they critique my mashed potatoes for being half butter. I want to have a daughter and I want to spend Sunday morning with her doing the crossword puzzle in the New York Times. I want to attend my kids high school graduations, and I want to help them move into their college dorms. I want to walk my daughter down the aisle on her wedding day. I want to grow old with the person I love, and I want to be surrounded by my family when I pass away.
I don’t want to be rich or famous. I don’t need to be in the best health, and I don’t need to live until I’m 80. I just want to live a life where I’ve spent more time with a smile on my face than without one.
But I don’t deserve that life. I wish I could convince myself that I can earn it, but I’m almost 30 and I’m still alone. I forced everybody out, because I was determined not to give myself any chance of finding my own happiness. I made sure I crushed my hopes and dreams, and yet… I can’t stop having the same dream, every night, and it’s driving me insane…
I keep dreaming of that family, of that life I can’t have, and while watching that family in my dreams hurts more than anything I ever thought possible, it also gives me the faintest amount of hope… but I can’t take it anymore. I either need to find a way to forgive myself so I can seek out this happiness, or I need to put an end to the dreams, once and for all.
Thus, I come back to the pivotal question: Do I deserve to be happy? I’ve been mulling this over for 3 days straight with no sleep, and I still have no fucking clue. So maybe somebody else can just tell me, one way or another. I just need to know..
I’m confusing to the public, regardless of the time, place, or lens through which I am viewed. Smartphone cameras consider my face as a smudge, so at least I can avoid being tagged in pictures posted to social media. But if you don’t exist on Facebook, are you even real? Without my opinions being expressed via Tweets and hashtags, I might as well not have opinions at all! My existence is a lie! Maybe I’m just the first of a new breed of modern ghosts. Maybe, if I spend another 5 years avoiding things like the Sun and any situation that has me interacting with another human being, I’ll finally just become a transparent blob. Perhaps, in that someday 5 years away, people who cast their gaze across the dotted lines of the early morning expressway will experience various levels of awe as they marvel at the modern wonder that is a driverless 2013 Honda Civic. Perhaps those people will even spare a thought as to why anybody would spend the money to retrofit such a vehicle to be self-driving, and perhaps even a few of those people will see the faint outline of my bulging form behind the wheel and realize this isn’t a technological wonder; it’s just a really pale and depressed fat human ragdoll.
Maybe I’m being too harsh on myself.
Or maybe I just don’t give a fuck about my life.
But honestly? I hate myself, and I believe I deserve to feel this way.
Speak to me, on bended knee!
“O sweet dreams, my dreary queen!”
Sail away on those ships of yours
Past the end, over the floors
Of a raging Ocean, with waves as tall
As my clouds, the love that won’t fall…
~My words on paper mean nothing at all, for in a moment of rage it can all be lost, tossed and torn, gone without a moment’s notice. I would prefer to write my words in the forever sky; my moments saved in a world solely for the heavens…~
Scream at me, the words you’ll never need,
Write them in the sky, so far from your seas.
The ships that you sail lack the wings
To carry you away with all of your things.
“My clouds are mine, the heavens untouched!”
So this love is mine; a pallet waiting on your brush…
Nobody just becomes an adult because they want to. Sure, people can try to be an adult, but honestly, it’s not something you can control. One day you’re a kid, and the next day that’s all over, and you are an adult from that point forward. It’s not sad or painful, at least not all the time, but it’s not something you can just will to happen, it just does.
So trying to judge yourself on the basis of whether or not you are a real adult is sort of silly, although I’m sure everybody has felt like a “bad” adult, or that they need to “grow up”. But people don’t grow up, do they? No, people don’t grow up, they just…grow.
Girl Scout cookies are heaven in a tightly baked, well balanced, easy to shovel into my mouth form. Seriously, those things taste like magic and friendship and so many other things that I’m sure will draw lawsuits from My Little Pony’s parent company if I ramble on to long. The serving size states “2 Each”, and I wondered why they would only give you half a serving with a box, because they MUST be referring to 1 box as part of the 2 each, right? I mean, who in their right mind could eat just 2 little cookies? This isn’t some pizza party where 2 slices should satisfy any persons hunger; girl scout cookies aren’t even meant to quell hunger, but instead they foster self-indulgence. These cookies are designed to boost your moral, put a smile on your face, and have you feeling satisfied as a human being, even as you realize you’ve become a literal elephant and consumed 1/5 your body weight in cookies. But while your body may be unable to move, your soul is enlightened, and all is forgiven, and you are nothing but a creature of pure light and love. And at the end of your feast, you get to pass out into the most wonderful, bliss filled sugar coma, with dreams of clouds made of cotton candy, mountains made of various flavors of fudge, and a thin mint cookie that isn’t thin, but regular sized (Is that to much to ask for, Girl Scouts?! I’m 25+ years old, I don’t need “thin” mints, I need “Thicc” mints. Make my dreams come true!!!)
So, in conclusion, the Boy Scouts should just disband, because earning an Eagle Scout honor is literal shit compared to giving another human even one crumb of the sugary allure that is the Girl Scout Cookie.
Except Samoa’s, those things are fucking garbage.
You know, I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to keep waking up in physical pain, throwing up my future all over my bathroom floor, replacing my bath rugs on a weekly basis. It’s not fun, and it makes me feel nothing. I don’t want to be nothing, but what else is there? I have to ask, because writing about it, saying it, screaming it out loud in my car at 3AM doesn’t make any other feelings come out.
I must have been happy.
It’s impossible that I could have lived over 25 years if all I ever felt was this.
But what is that feeling? I’d settle for unchecked rage at the world at large, or an unbearable guilt for the dreams I’ve abandoned. I’d take a million tears, a million crushed hearts, a million more minutes of my fall from the top to this bottom. I’d take any feeling, anything to wake me up, to make me feel… I just want to feel something…