It seems so easy at times to sit at a computer screen and type. Lots of things seem easy, and well, for me, they aren’t. Like waking up, or getting to school. Or even getting some makeup and clothes on and getting my butt outside for a bit.
The shallows of these walls surround me and when I walked alone tonight invisible webs lined my path. Do not step off the path they say, we will lead you and you will obey. And they lead me from artificial light to the pure darkness of the night; they lead me to the waters edge. They lead me from you and they lead me from them. I wish I had realized what a fool I am, to fear the night and embrace light, the light of wires, the light of man. If there was a devil then that's where he’d lie, in the artificial, the poisons, in the land of mankind.
I don’t know why my mind is weary. I dreamed on my walk of someone attacking me. And I’d say to them, you may take my wallet, for no money lies there. And you may take my body because one look at my arms would show how much I care. And you can take my mind because it’s worn and probed, and you may even take my heart for its already been broke. And if after all that they still dreamed to attack, then would I have cared?
As you read this, I pray to a god manufactured by man, that I do not hurt you. I’m tired. I’m burdened by the bodies of others. Sometimes I wish to be alone, if only to wallow in the hollows still left in my soul. The hollows I’ve always known. The hollows that seem to have been my only true friend and my own worst enemy. Hollows I once believed were me. I have left the comforting warmth, I have lived a life as I believe most people do live. But it does not leave me, like a haunting the feelings fade and reappear just when I believed it was over.
I miss the days alone when all I did was write. The good and the bad, the black and the white, and every shade I could create in-between. Though I am no longer lonely, though I have found laughter and cares too deep to describe, I cannot banish my mind. I only wish that I had picked up a pen more when I smiled, and less when I hurt too deep to cry.
I’m sorry if this hurts you. I’m sorry when the hollows inside me take me so deep that your face and words cannot reach me. I will not fight my shadows, I have tried. I yearn now to embrace them, and understand something from them. I yearn to write until every thought within my mind is free and never dies alone with me. I do believe that someday even silly writings like these may release the darkness cast upon another being such as I.