I feel … empty. I thought for awhile that I may never feel anything again, but to my dismay, the pain has returned.
I thought that I had friends, but still I am alone. Apparently I’m not the actor I had imagined. What a fake I am. I thought I could please everyone, but maintaining the illusions that are my outer shell has become tiresome, and more than I can manage.
I’ve been close to death before, but there was always a shred of hope that remained. I thought that one day I would learn to kill that hope, so I could leave this place, but in my end, I realize that the hope killed itself.
I wanted happiness, just not in an ordinary way. I’ve spent too many days thinking that there would always be tomorrow to begin my journey towards my goals.
Now, my failures mounting, accumulating, and obvious, I find myself running from the awful truth that is my life: I am completely ordinary.
There is nothing exotic about my life, nothing spectacular. I am just one of many ones.
I thought I was in control, but life it seems, controls me. I attempt to make decisions, but find that they are made for me. The more I struggle, the faster I sink.
I have no more desire to do anything.
I feel violent.Â I feel dangerous.
I want to destroy something.