thepassages

[thepassages]

Passage 2 - The Toll of Existence

TW: Suicide

It's never the disassociation but rather the re-association. The moment where I come back to my senses and realized I am alive. Realize that this is life and I have no other option but to keep going. Right now, writing this for some reason makes me really sad. The fact that there's no pause. And the only time we get a break is at the end. It's not that I fear death, it's just I'm not running towards it, even though my mental want me to not be here, at least not like this. The toll of existence. The pain of growth.

I think I have self esteem issues. That's what I get for believing everyone that was said to me. Most of this, where I'm at now, good or bad, is my fault. Not entirely a bad reality, but, nevertheless, one I am left to live with. I just never though that the people who claimed to love me would ever treat me like that. But they did, and still do. It's my fault. I let them. See, when you spend your life as a doormat, you only care about finding your way to make it as a rug. Even though all you're doing is tryin to get in the house, people are still to walk over you. But I don't necessarily want to be the human in that metaphor either.

Every time I feel like I have that intrusive thought to kill myself, I am just going to write the hypothetical letter to those I would leave behind. Right now it would probably read: this isn't because of you. For once, I finally need to make a decision that was my own. Selfish, admittedly, maybe. But a good part of me believed you wouldn't know or be bother by the distance. The numbing only does so much. Eventually you seek out feeling. It's just when you feel as if that loop is fixed, set in stone, your sense kick in to try to escape using all methods available. in a moment of transparency, I hate myself. And also the reality of the things I care about. Who the fuck cares about sports or.. I think thats my only hobby. Being a consumer. Reliving moments that I will never get back, trying to spark emotions and endorphins that are long gone. Watching other fulfill their childhood dreams, as I sit, bored and lifeless in my room, question the validity of the fantasies I have.. or had. I won't be back to tell you if it was worth it. If I made the right decision or if I overreacted to the common pressures of life. If I should've just sucked it up and put on a face, you know the mental health make up. A fake smile, say I'm fine and then walk away from whatever meaningless back and forth we call conversation knowing that my performance wasn't the most convincing but it did the job. How can God be angry for us trying to see him? How could he cast those to hell for trying to escape hell on earth? If everything he said and did is true, why wouldn't I expired the process of seeing the Pearly Gates?

05.21.2021 - 7:55

[thepassages]

Passage 1 - Glasses On

Glasses On.

For a while, I was the only one in my family who didn't wear glasses. I thought it was a cool thing for me, not to have something else to have to keep up with. Seeing was never my issue, I trusted my eyes. to guide me, to make sense of things, to be my first layer of protection from the world. But even then, or especially then, I should say, the eyes are easily deceived. I always fall victim to sleight of hand. I don't know if it's the speed or the distraction, but I always never seem to understand how they do it. The ability to deceive in such a personal manner. To have evidence that you are not only human but are vulnerable.

Even though they make me look stupid, I feel smarter, like have to uphold the stigma of those who wear glasses, the distinguishable brilliant minds that walked among us. Another part of me feels part of the pact, a group I wasn't born into but feel drawn to like white kids who go to the Black Student Union meetings. It is a life I always wonder about living, a reality that is all too real.

People change when the lights turn on and even more when the shows sold out. Those shows become hit or miss. If you're good they should be no issue, everyone knows to stat in their role. But if you are human and around some other humans, that moment can become impossible. I'm not sure if authenticity exists anymore. if anyone or anything is real. so much is borrowed and stolen and chopped and skewered. to the point where new has become renditions of old. and that's just how life could work, a cycle where the only change is us and our time on stage. The script and story will always be the same.

05.14.2021 - 12:12