thoughts 2

365 Days of Creativity

day eighty two

thoughts 2

This garden is fertilized with cigarette butts. These walls are decorated with words, and I don't remember why I put them there. The carpet is filled with the remains of meals, and drowns in drops of spilled drinks. 

I am lonely when I'm home. I am lonely when I'm surrounded. I feel disconnected, unknown, unrealized. I feel like a myth, a mistake. I am out of place in every place that I go. Is there anyone else who feels so alone?

Is it still a missed opportunity if it would have made me dreadfully unhappy?

Though I am, already, dreadfully unhappy. I want love, strength, wisdom. I feel trapped by my naivety. How can anyone speak before they have lived? The young know nothing. Every statement is simply a guess at the unknown. Like pointing the way through a cave with no lantern to guide. 

I don't care enough about anything. My dreams and goals are put on hold for things that I must do. "Fuck the way you live your lives," I scream in immature angst, but what am I proving with words, while my actions mirror yours? 9-5, nickel&dime, I work as you work, I sleep as you sleep, I eat and drink and make mistakes. This is the habit of humanity, but I don't want to be human anymore. I don't feel human anymore. I feel trapped. I feel like reality is a facade, a silly trick played on us, to see who will fall for it. And like lambs to the slaughter, we lap at the fodder, feasting at our troughs.

Everyday I walk along, feeling wholly disconnected from the rest of the world. Isolated within my own mid, cursed with the burden of thoughts. They run in circles, these thoughts of mine. Joining hands and voices in endless arcs of Ring Around the Rosie. "who-are-they what-are-they what-do-they-want?" My own mind mocks me with a melody, while it's my soul that is suffering. It's not a pain so great as depression, more of a hollowness. A constant melancholy. A complete indifference to the world around me. Not a mote of care for schol, work, money. Yet I deeply yearn for a soulful connection, not a fake friendship based on meaningless works. Everyday I walk along, a hypocrite, a young mind trapped by its own deficiencies. I walk troubled and timed and terribly true. I walk alone.