Aug 30th 2018
I was getting ready for sleep. I kept weeping. I am not entirely
sure why. There is a part of me that believe this bull shit. The bull
shit my head keeps feeding me. You are alone again. It’s another night.
An empty bed besides the heat emanating from your own body. It keeps
your warm at night. It covers and betrays you. Your body’s warmth is all
you can depend on. Your eyes, the man you want to be. weep. I am not
strong. I am writing at 2am, drunk, because i am not sure what else i
should do.
I sit alone. Again.
It was a fun night. I wish
i could focus on that. I wish i could focus on that night. But my mind
turns to the nothing that possess my bed. A ghost of the past. It’s
empty. It’s always empty. My heart. My life. My bed is empty. At one
point, life was full. Life was empty but my bed was full. There was
warmth. It makes a difference when you have warmth. This whole thing is
hard. This life with things that leads nowhere. The drinks, the laughter
and the fun, still an empty bed. I wish i could focus on anything but
the fact that no one seems to like me. I am friendly. People like me….
As a much as people like that guy who blends into the curtains. The guy
who is as much a couch as your nearest loveseat is. Who is comfortable
to be around, but not for an extended stay. Not enough to get to know…. I
would honestly think that i really wouldn’t want to get to know me. You
bring nothing. You are as much nothing as the air you cling to in your
bed. Holding your pillow like a lover who could never return your
passion.
I want to be positive. The negative fills me. It feels
my bed faster than comfort of sleep. It carried you farther than the
dreams that are soon to come. The tears they pour like a fine wine that
has aged a year too long. The bitter taste of the lost.
I am
writing in hope of leaving this behind. I am afraid that people see the
fear. The fear of living. The idea that there is too much behind and
that which leads the way, is empty, is a void, it’s a fog. It’s
something you see but move through regardless. Breath. The fog won’t
consume you. It just makes it hard to see the lights. It makes it hard
to see brightness.
You will be loved, as much as you love. I am a
shit show. People look on with delight, as you tear yourself down, no
help needed.
