here i am again, forcing myself into death’s embrace

i can create a beautiful life in my imagination. i am able to share my imagination with people. however, i can’t live the beautiful life which my inspired imagination painted for me. my ideals that ostensibly obstruct my connection with humanity are strangling me now. i am a man who lives in a constant fear state. i live out my life in other worlds that are not real since i cannot live in this one. it’s not that i want to die so much as it is that i can’t live. i will always be half of a great man. never a great man. a man who can speak the beautiful truth that he interprets in symbols, but never will i be a man who lives the beautiful truth. innocence provides my ego with the fuel that it needs to keep itself detached from my brothers and sisters. i can’t feel anything at all anymore, nor do i want to. there is no point to my existence at all. i do nothing for myself or the world around me, i’m already dead