I am a shell of a person, floating through life. I don’t have an excuse of why I’d rather sit alone. It’s hard to explain, it’s hard to understand. You see, I enjoy feeling like this, but it sure is lonely. The more I pull back, the further I fall, and the further I fall, the more I slip away, loosening my grip on what is suppose to be life. It’s humiliating. Someone I know stopped by earlier, on a Friday night, and I’m just sitting alone playing xbox. I don’t have an issue with this personally, but it was he who once told me that even my own friends can’t stand me, and that all I have is my cat. Alone. Friday. I am validating every mean thing that has been said about me.
I am not enough for this world. Exhaustion is washing the little life I had left in me down the drain. I know what I’m capable of, however, I am pushing myself too hard. I can’t quite keep up, but there is no room for failure. So here I stand, with a smile on my face, as those around me watch me crumble to the ground.
I am empty. Nothing more than a pile of debris, waiting to be swept away. A hollow framework of what used to be me is no more than some pathetic remnants next to a “watch your step” sign. There is nothing inside of me, and it is lovely. It is truly a euphoric feeling of bliss, but only one to experience alone. No food, no water, no life.
I am not in this world.