Hello Darkness, My Old Friend 👋🏽

 Thinking Hurts.

    My brain no longer wishes to participate. I wish there was a way I could completely shut it off. Perhaps a switch, which would allow me a moment of peace and quiet. Even my dreams haunt me, with lovers from a past life. Everything is painful. My strength is faltering to the point where I question if I can continue to take this anymore.

    Creation is my only way out. That much, I have deduced. The ability to build and create something which can properly express my pain is all that I have left at this point. There seems to be no other option left for me. I must create. I must sit down, and allow the darkness to consume me. I must be willing to go under the water, and allow it to break my breath. The very magic which I am afraid of, must now be used against me. I no longer have a choice.

    Deep down, my soul grows tired. Living the same day, over and over again. The same nightmare, never ending. Although I admit things could always be worse, I still struggle to see the light of my situation. I still falter at the thought of a world outside of this prison. One might say that I must keep the faith and move forward with a clear view- however, I struggle to see the point. The clouds of death surround me, as even my body begins to falter. I no longer see a way forward, no longer see a point to the struggle.

    Daily, I push myself to improve on some form of aspects. My body is drained, as is my soul. I continue to dig deep, attempting to hit some target which cannot be seen ahead. I strive towards some sort of dream, where I will never accomplish. I battle the demons surrounding me. They’re every move, working harder than ever to bring me down. To hold me under. To anchor me to the bottom of the well. And every day, I fight back. I battle, with all that I have in my heart. I attempt to attack them, to redirect them. I attempt to do everything in my power to save my life. The truth is, I simply aren’t as strong as I thought.

    It’s a sobering realization, when you wake up to reality. It kicks your ass, and shows you things you wish to never know. I believed I was powerful enough to take on even the worse of evil surrounding me. I believed I had finally found the keys to potential. Yet here I stand, before my screen, nothing more than a shell. Nothing more than an individual who has been mortally wounded by the hands of some over being. The reality is, I am weak. I am sick. I am destructive. 

    Falling apart is meant to be a good thing. At least, thats what the internet tells me. The more I read, the more I begin to wonder if the internet is really such a good thing, after all. Perhaps not. Perhaps, I should just throw it away and completely isolate myself from its information. Would that help me with my current predicament? Probably not. Would it hurt? Probably not. To be frank, not much seems to do the trick as of late. All forces seem to be simply draining, slowly but surely driving me insane.

    Insanity was a gift. A gift from God. His power, bestowed upon me, to be the breaker of chains and the destroyer of reality. However, the gift can also be a curse. The pain and suffering, the loneliness. The never-ending battle between light and dark. How I long to know what path to walk upon. How I wish to know if it is the path of light or darkness which calls my name. Both offer me nothing more than suffering, at a different rate. The darkness is my friend, I know it well. The light, not so much- for I hate myself. The never-ending conflict, between living for a cause, and causing a life worth to live, is exhausting. I no longer wish to play this game.

    Parts of me wishes I could be sane. Parts of me wish, I could simply accept life and become nothing more than a brain-dead slave. One who wakes up, and does what they’re told. One who allows himself to be nothing more than a pawn. One who takes orders, and questions nothing. To literally shut off my brain. Oh how it would be so simple. To become nothing more than a brainless slave, driven by nothing more than my urges. Ironically, a salve who follows only their urges becomes yet another slave. I’m starting to think that the world of freedom ain’t so free, after all.

    Despite my weariness, despite my fatigue- I must continue forward. I must push through the darkness, until something is to appear. Perhaps it’s waiting for me, right around the corner. Perhaps today is the day that my life finds its purpose again. Or perhaps, today is just the same as yesterday, and yesterday, the same as tomorrow. The never-ending cycle of despair and depression, slowly dragging me down by the heels. 

    How I long for human interaction. How I long for human touch. How I long just to hold onto someone, to remind myself that I am not yet truly dead. 

Oh, how I long for this journey to finally meet its end.

        Glory Be,

                    Amen.