clairvoyentvale

Right now, I’m really living in music. I thrashed and danced until 3am last night. Just to express something – to let it all out in the only way I could.

That trapped, controlled feeling won’t leave me.

And I’m just a void in its wake.

Or maybe just angry. Red and seething.

Tired of feeling censored, censored, censored.

Wrong, wrong, wrong

Too much, too much, too much

I don’t like you. You’re not good enough. Eat shit and die.

Why do I have to measure myself for you, for everyone? Give you the perfect little dose?

You’re ugly. You’re mean. Too harsh.

Your music is too loud.

Why are you talking to me like that? You’re too angry. What gives you the right to act that way?

Control, control, control – always

No one deserves for you to be this way –

But they caused it no?

Why can’t I ruin you the way you ruined me?

If justice and fairness are the only things I can bring to this world than so be it.

Stop.

You’re too much again.

I can’t deal with you when you’re like this.

Go talk to someone who can actually help you.

Who? Oh you mean no one? Just the people who keep telling me I’m fine? Or the people who want to wrench the only control I have from my cold, dead fingers?

Stop treating me this way. You’re not better than me. Your disgust with others sickens me.

Internal chaos. Turmoil. Lost.

An open field with nothing in sight besides tall grass. Just open air to breathe.

Empty, no guidance.

You can keep existing for them right?

Who might I ask? I’m here one second, gone the next. No one notices.

I keep going because there are small things that still feel like breathing. And the relief of breathing when you’re drowning and need air?

Exhilarating – no one can touch you.

And that’s what I want. To be untouchable. Because no one can hurt me then.

And these past couple days, I’ve been detaching myself. And I know it’s going to hurt me in the long run. But I can’t seem to care.

Anything is better than this.

That’s why I drank –

And smoked –

And might again.

Because everything in life is surface level right?

No one wants to see what’s real.

But I do.

That’s all I want to see.

I don’t care that it rained two days ago or that it was so cold you needed a jacket.

I want to know that your mom just died and all you felt was relief and guilt because you’re happy she’s gone.

I want to know that you chose to be here another day because you can’t imagine going to the great thereafter without another cup of coffee.

And I want to know you’re giving up on socially acceptable life and chasing your dreams.

Because we all should.

Because why are we all cookie cutter cut outs of make believe adults that are just going through the motions of every day, hoping everything will just drastically change for the better one day.

Not knowing that WE have to change something.

WE have to break up or start over or destroy something.

It’s US.

We are not bystanders.

Be content with what you have. It’s the best you can ask for.

It’s not enough. There’s no air in this room.

In fact, is it getting smaller in here?

Am I choking?

I need to MOVE or this will be my tomb. Laid to rest forever.

Why is no one else breathing? Why am I the only one who needs air to feel alive?

Oh I can have air if I fit in this box you made?

I don’t want to fit.

Let me out, let me out, let me out