"Cuts, An Essay and the Sleepless Night"
I'm staring at my cuts, my scars. I'm recalling the sensations and the pain. They seem to be right at my heels. I can't run away fast enough.
I spent the entire night writing up my essay. It looked kinda impressive, but i'm not sure what i wrote about or even if the sentances were coherent. I dont know - i wish i could fall asleep now, but the sun seems too bright and the world a wee bit too noisy. I'm waiting for the darkness to settle in.
I wonder how much longer can I keep up with this pretense. This face is not mine. This body is not mine. I am a creature. I'm trapped in something that cannot work or express what I really am. This brain does not fulfil me. It does not function in the way I want it to. I'm twisted and I'm fake. I'm not who I am.
Maybe I'm ultimately nothing inside. I'm a shell - hallow and empty, waiting for a soul to fill me up inside.
I can't do this. I can't continue like this like i'm walking around dead and listlessly. Everything seems unreal and just a simulation of shadow plays. I'm so miserable, but dont want to cry. I can't cry anymore.
I feel like all my ports are inverted to the ones that are needed to plug into this world. Nothing makes sense. I'm staring straight into my inpending doom and nothing can stop it.
I dont want to go. I dont want it to be this way. I'm falling like a leaf into a bottomless pit. I can't see the end of this hole, but i can make out the sky, the scenery pulling away from me. This is not the gravity i want.
I'm simply not there anymore. I never was.
