Why am I still here? The next moment. The next rush. A new piece of music. An elaborate plan. The latest fantasy. Regrets for a life misspent. Nostalgia for wasted youth. Memories. A fresh landscape. A beautiful view. Delusions of grandeur. Impossible dreams. Attachment. Optimism bias. Narcissism. Force of habit. Survival instinct. Nothing tangible. Nothing real.
Somehow these overcome the totality of my lived experience: Overwhelming fear. Immortal worms in my guts. Running on empty. Insane loneliness. Cold sweat. Despair. Shame that reaches to my core. An insatiable hunger. Stains that cannot be expunged. Decay, day by day. Itches that cannot be scratched. Forever watching from the sidelines. Empty. The grandest of inferiority complexes. Brainfog and numbing ache. Richly deserved self-hatred. Emotional infancy in a body slowly falling apart. Grey skies. Resenting everything. No future. Burning skin. Known by no one.
My head is a twisted, sad little place. Still, those imagined moments…
6 comments
Husk you’re incredible
Thank you
This is amazing. And hits me deep agree with 1fineday you’re incredible.
Thanks. It really means a lot to me that someone gets it.
The way you put things put me to shame.
What, are you a worm in my gut? How else do you know me so well?
I like the way you put things.
I am indeed one of your immortal gut worms. We are part of an infinite chain of gut worms. Hence the relatability of this post.