I wish that everything was different. I wish that I was a part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered, to anyone. I mean, let's face it: would anybody even notice if I disappeared tomorrow?.
Also, i realized that avoiding people didn't actually ease any of my anxieties. Out there in the woods, i still had to live with myself.
Burning is the right way to paint it. You feel yourself getting so hot, day after day. Hotter and hotter. It gets to be too much. Even for stars. At some point they fizzle out or explode. Cease to be. But if you're looking up at the sky, you don't see it that way. You think those stars are still there. Some aren't. Some are already gone. Long gone. I guess, now, so am I.
Maybe, someday, some other kid is going to be standing here, staring out at the trees, feeling alone, wondering if maybe the world might look different from all the way up there. Better. Maybe he’ll start climbing, one branch at a time, and he’ll keep going, even when it seems like he can’t find another foothold. Even when it feels hopeless. Like everything is telling him to let go. Maybe this time he won’t let go. This time he’ll hold on. He’ll keep going.
Fantasies always sound good, but they're no help when reality comes and shoves you to the ground. When it trips up your tongue and traps the right words in your head. When it leaves you to eat lunch by yourself.
Really, though, what do i know about what another person is capable of? I still don't have a clue what i'm capable of. I keep surprising even myself.
I'm left with a loneliness so overpowering it threatens to seep from my eyes. I have no one. Unfortunately, that's not fantasy. That's all-natural, 100 percent organic, unprocessed, reality.
If the pain is in you, it's in you. It follows you everywhere. Can't outrun it. Can't erase it. Can't push it away; it only comes back. The way I've been thinking, after all that's happened, maybe there's only one way to survive it. You have to let it in. Let it hurt you.
I laugh plenty. I mean, i laughed plenty. I laughed at how absurdly fucked everything is. I laughed because there's not much else you can do. You can laugh or you can cry. I'd do plenty of both.
You're born and you keep getting older and grayer and sicker, and no matter what efforts you make to reverse the process, you die, every single time. To repeat: worse, worse, worse, and then death. I have a long way to go before the worst. This is only the beginning.
How many times in life do you get to just start all over again?". That does sound tempting, actually. Can i start over today?.
I looked up once more, at the whole world; it was beautiful, I knew it was, but I wasn't a part of it. I was never going to be a part of it.
Why would he do this? I mean, i understand how low a person can get. I also know that when you're not in the best headspace, the trivial can turn into the insurmountable and all of sudden you're heading down a dark path and you can't find your way back.
Now i'm home again and none of my usuals methods of escape are doing the trick. I tend to watch a lot of movies. Ideally, documentaries about loners, outcats, pioneers. Give me a cult leader, obscure historical figures, dead musicians. I want to see a misunderstood person who someone is finally taking the time to understand.
No one should ever feel they have to suffer in silence. We need to keep talking about mental health and continue to reach out to those who might be suffering.
To the ground I fall. I can never stay aloft too long. Not when there's an ugly and heavy truth always dragging me back down.