Survival and starvation breed insanity in the minds of the weak willed.
The weak don’t last long.
The voices scramble in my head. Fighting. Striking all the cords. Lighting sparking up my neurons. Causing pain. So on. And so on.
The scent of sulfur squeezes in under the crack of the door. Seductive. Alluring. It could all be over if I give in. A doorknob away.
Pitch black footsteps on the other side. Some drag. Others pace.
A scent which promotes a familiar taste. Iron. Strong. It lingers in this place.
Greed lead the curious cat to Death’s door. Whether or not I want to remain here anymore is no longer a choice I get to make. Best case scenario is to endure.
It’s been days and the daze is setting in. Not many ways this could end. I’ve already debated running outside. And I hate it, knowing I might die. But there’s no other way to… Read More
He pulls the trigger to take his life. He lives a lifetime waiting to die.
Curious, the thought lingers in the back of his mind. “What will it feel like on the other side?” His tongue massages the steel barrel. Tastes of lead. “I’m over this end. Time for something new.”
Trigger pulled, he feels himself fall to the side at a pace so slow it might not even be happening. Fractions of seconds stretch to feel like hours. 100 million thoughts run through his mind as his eyes crawl the wall to the ceiling.
It seems that days go by watching the bulb on the ceiling dim down.
Lucy, the wife walks into view getting ever slower. Finally fully in sight, the terror trapped in her eyes is visible. Horror. Holding little Suzie, too young to know what’s going on.
Lucy paces her way up to a scream. She’s nearly no more than a silhouette. Swallowed by the dark the remaining specs of light blink away. The everlasting fade goes on for infinities. “Bye,” is his last thought as nothing is left behind.
And his eyes are fixed on a new spot of light left dancing off in the distance.
It’s a million miles away but getting bigger. Coming closer. Blinding it gets. And it overtakes the darkness leaving no trace. White floods the ambience. A perpetual ring in the ears. Muffled voices in an unfamiliar language.
Giant creatures like nothing seen before. Yet there is no recollection of seeing anything before this moment. There is no memory of this mysterious, confusing, terrifying place… Read More
I’m scared. Terrified. Read More
That’s why I write.
That’s why I get intoxicated.
That’s why I philosophize.
And yet… I have not the slightest clue what I’m afraid of.
I can’t share my thoughts or heart properly. The message always gets across accurately. Never whole.
Life always feels incomplete.
The fun times end too soon. The bad times last too long.
This reality is dull. It’s boring.
Helplessness. As I get older the world appears crazier. I’m left questioning whether the madness increases or my awareness of it does.
My life summarized is Mildly Anxious.
The ups and downs are there. Always present. They’re unpredictability is nauseating.
The best is made of whatever comes.
I’m constantly realizing how little I know of the world.
And that’s just what I’m aware I know little of.
There are things I don’t consider exist. Things I wouldn’t think up in a million years.
Like all my beliefs, given to me. Heard them and followed whichever I agreed with.
I’ve never confirmed any to be accurate or true. Wouldn’t even know how I would do that..
It’s quite possible I don’t understand anyone and no one understands me.
I’m scared to die. But only when I think about it. And only some of the times that I think about it.
Don’t know if I’m succeeding at life or not.
Life sort of… Takes me.
To wherever I am. I don’t know.
From wherever I came. I don’t know.
To wherever I’m going. I don’t know.
I’m happy from time to time.
Miserable from time to time.
Not sure why the things that cause either do.
I’m not even sure what the point of writing this is.
But I am. I guess this is how I “succeed” at life.
I think that’s the goal.
Self-reflective, Jack discusses his fears and motivations for being creative. Leaving a mark.
I wear a mask to go hard Read More
And I take the lie pretty far
Fake like I’m born with these scars
I don’t bruise, I’m from mars
Way high up in the stars
With red eyes locked like darts
Just ’cause I’m smarter when I gab
That’s why I overstand to rap and spit
Can barely stand hands frosty grip
Around my throat
The grip won’t slip
Hope I don’t choke
I’m rolling throwing blame at frozen shame
Stone cells, prison brain
Shattered the glass house
The crash was mad loud
I’m assed out
No second chance will pass down
Claim sober to be left alone
Getting closer for…
...but he tries to relax. He can’t seem to stop kicking and flailing wildly.
As James struggles to hold himself up the rope swings left and right. Bounces up and down. Tightens as it twists and turns making it increasingly difficult to grip.
“How do I get out of this?” James tries to focus, “How do I pull myself up and over?” but he can barely keep it together. Images of family members and his children keep getting in the way. His mind wanders against his will. He rather keep it on solutions. Active and capable. But his rational mind believes it’s too late.
Struggling with which... Read More