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lol

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i dont want to understand my abuse. im tired of trying to understand. i just want to leave it behind and not care. i dont want to hurt at completely random anymore. it wasnt fair how i was treated, itll never make sense to me, because it doesnt make sense. there was no reason why it was me. i was unlucky. the tragedy of tragedy is that its so often pointless and meaningless, and you spend so much time searching through the mud and tears to find any reason that you lose yourself. there will never be any justice, but maybe one day i can have peace. i hope so.

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one day these eyes will stare to the erupting skies and reflect the enthusiasm they once knew. one day these eyes will look to grey skies and reflect the strength of the brick and stonework walls they were first broken within. one day these eyes will look to a rising sun and reflect the calm love that was denied for so long. one day these eyes will look to starry skies unblinking and know peace after so long.

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hallway #2

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I am going to disappoint so many people one day.

It isn't the first time I've felt and understood that. It probably won't be the last. I just know that there are people I love that really believe in me that are going to be devastated when I can't deliver on that ideal. Everything I know is through the optics of my own experiences. Nowhere feels like home anymore. No one feels like they care anymore. I can't get invested or engrossed like I used to. I don't care where I'm going anymore. My sister bought a house. Getting married. I'm unshaven. Fat. Unemployed. Unsupported by the institutions explictly there to assist. I was sort of hoping that things would turn around, but the years are grinding by faster and faster and nothings changing. I 'beat' the substance abuse. I still feel awful. My life still feels like it stopped the day I cracked and lost my career.

I still harbor a little hope that, somehow, getting to my hometown will change things. Like the peace will somehow bring forth a revelation. Or an angel will descend from the heavens and things will be right again. At least that a few years will set me right as rain again. The ever growing fear, though, is that it'll be like everything else. There will never be a grand breakthrough. The road will remain long and uncaring, and I will remain tired and exhausted. The idea of feeling safe in my own home, in my own skin, drives me. But I know things don't work like that. Things don't just get better. It takes constant ongoing effort and unending pushing to surmount. I don't think I have that in me, anymore. I think the me that was strong, actually genuinely strong, got left behind in one of the dozens of airports I passed through. I hope he's alright.

I know he'd be disappointed too.

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what was had is never coming back, clinging to the past is to abandon the future. Quickly, still your heart and release your tired and timeworn memory before it is all you have.

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I was just a fuckin kid, man. It's been twenty years and every second is still scorched behind my eyes like a scarlet letter or a black mark. i want it all back, everything that was stolen. everything i will never, ever have. do they even care anymore?

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How do you tell a loved one these things? How do you share with a friend, dear and loyal, these awful truths? I have the words written before me, all the reasons and whyfors. How do you tell someone who believes in your growth that everything they see is dead and rotten through? How can I, in good faith, look them in the eye and tell them that I love them, but it simply isn't enough?

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I don't feel safe in my own skin, my own rage terrifies me. Sleep evades me and even when I crumble and collapse into my bed, when exhaustion finally takes me, I find no rest or peace. I'm tired of being tired, I'm tired of being in pain and feeling hurt. The moments I forget I exist in a tangible way are the only moments I care for anymore, and I can't shake the idea of throwing myself off the bridge from my head. I realized that I'm not good at anything. I'm not even good at the things I enjoy, the things I spend all of my time on. I'm all I've ever been, all I ever will be. It's slipping away day by day and I'm not getting better. I didn't think I was going to end up as nothing. I never wanted to change the world, but I didn't want to be so painfully alone. If I was the last man on Earth, I would at least have solace in that there was simply no other way. But I see faces pass me every day, faces that live lives that are vibrant and emotional and so much more worthy of the air I suck into my lungs and rob from them. I desperately need people to tell me that I am a good person, and I truly think I am. At least, I am now. But these pleasantries are irrelevant, I don't care to keep justifying my continued existence, the acid in my veins has slipped more and more onto my tongue and out of my mouth, I hear the words of my abusers in my voice and I hate it. I hate myself. I can't learn anymore, I've fully stagnated and exist purely because I don't wish to see those that continue to care hurt, but their eyes hurt all the same when they see me writhe in my own skin. I want release.

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hi, blog isn't dead and neither am I

I went to a hospital for a little bit voluntarily, currently have been vibing.

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normalize decay. its okay to crumble to dust in grafitti'd hallways, in rooms where the trees reach through the windows and claw at the ceiling. allow yourself to be consumed by moss; ask it for all that it has seen. be at peace with the worms reclaiming what was lost all those years ago. return to the forest.

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say it with me

u r not a niche internet celebrity, ur just mentally ill

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i just wanna be a silly lil guy, happy-go-lucky me. in my own lane and flourishing with my own fauna biome. i want roots to fill my bones and flowers to spring from my chest. i no longer want thoughts in my head, i just want cute lil buggy bois being happy and vibing. i want to stare to the arctic skies with eyes unblinking and know peace

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