The Ebb Of The Soul

‘It hurts. It hurts to be conscious. It hurts to be alive. Novacaine for the soul before I sputter out? I’d rather sputter out then it’d stop and wouldn’t ever start again, I’d be a true peace after so so long of coping with this torment. Maybe people want me to suffer because I just keep suffering, even though I’m receiving help it doesn’t help, maybe they just want to keep me away from others. Am I a danger to others? Maybe, out of sight out of mind. And so I rot here, self destruction almost guaranteed as I bounce off the walls and always end up spiralling like a brick, always down, never up.

What use am I? I try to be of use, I try to make that difference but does it make any difference? Sometimes, sometimes it does but rarely, it’s too little to justify the pain, the torture, the pointlessness of the rest. For now I only survive because nothing will take me away from this, suicide is pointless as I’m as useless at that as I am at life. How apt, being as useless at death as I am at life, figures.

Do I want things? Do I want anything out of life? Yes but long ago I realised I want the wrong things, they must be wrong otherwise why do I never seem to get things? Perhaps the things are right, perhaps it’s me that’s wrong. Any way I look at it the maths adds up to the same thing, I just wish someone would erase me from the equation. How many times have I said that? And still the bastards keep me here, in this so called life, a life I’ve not wanted for so long, I would say I’d miss things, I would if I could, but dath takes away that luxury. Heaven and hell are the same place, right here, right now, when you die there is nothing left. Oh how good that would feel if I were able to feel.

Having tried more than once I know hat there’s no pleasure in death, no relief that it’ll all be over, just a determination to do it, to be done with it, All I’ve felt is a mix of fear, determination, and resignation, nothing more.

They say you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, but what if they want help but you can’t help them?

I like how people try to bullshit me, rarely does it work but instead it’s as much an insult as if they’d struck me. Maybe something about me says ‘dumb fuck’ and so people try it… shame they’re not right. Maybe ECT is the way, zap my brain to fuck till I don’t know who I am and can’t help drooling, then they can bullshit me till the cows come home and it wouldn’t matter.’

Next: Self Esteamed
Previous: Up The Steps, Down The Slide

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