spaceDeeper and deeper I plummet, feeling the weight of my chest sinking me lower into an abyss to which blocks my sight from ever looking up. I cannot find the will to want to do anything right now. I cannot speak with words because of the fear that anything I say may not even hold bearing. I am silent but my words want to come out. I am writing this because this is my only means of ever being heard. Of course no one is going to read this though it is public, I feel as though whatever that I do is futile regardless, so I'm going to just keep rambling on.
spaceShame is what I feel inside. A lot of what I talk about nowadays is what I feel. Feeling is of my instinctual interpretation of what I am telling myself about what is happening to me. I cannot shake off this guilt and I don't want to be subjugated as a hypocrite by going against my feelings. It is like for me to want change is like destroying the foundations which I had built years ago. I want to be free and to share that freedom with someone, but inevitably I am here, confined to this prison cell called home; not making a single noise due to the nature that I find myself in.
spaceI don't want to be here, to be heard, to be seen. I just want to be away, far from anyone could ever remember. I want to be that person who never existed. I want to be that person who wasn't a person, just something you might have heard but realized it was nothing. I want to be forgotten, to be something not even worth mentioning.
spaceI want to be away, but I can't. It is not even luck that guides my problems, only my lack of self-discipline. I think many times about the easiest ways now as to how to disappear. I don't want to, but I do. I am not trying to think of these things, but they come. I see that the worst fears in life are not of anything I make up, but things that are happening. The whole chronicle of events that make my life is what I fear. I know there are means to which I can maybe put a tourniquet and stop the bleeding, but words cannot describe the pain that comes even when all seems alright.
spaceI think the worst is still yet to come, that's what it feels like. Before I could see some sympathy of the future days, but now I feel like it is bleak. I don't have dreams of things to come when I sleep, which was something that use to happen to me quite often. Again I feel- my instincts tell me that I'm on a destructive path which will eventually lead to more pain and suffering. Sometimes I think that I should have not had gone to the hospital those couple of times. I know that I shouldn't think that way, but I do regardless. It hurt too much, and hearing that my organs were shutting down, that to me sounded morbidly pleasant. The idea of my body physically shutting down, it was close, twice. It's that peripheral intuition though that stops me from giving up. I keep looking down the line and see false hope, and so I feel like I should keep going.
spaceWhat am I saying? I don't know whether right now I'm contemplating something that I shouldn't be contemplating. This taboo dereliction of living that goes against the very nature of life. The conscience is self-destructing, eating away at itself like locus against a crop. I don't want to die, but that is only because I don't want to find myself in a situation where if I do die early, that would be it. Finito. No way of turning back the grains of time to which I can remake a situation that can stop me from doing something that I will eventually regret many years down the road, therefore reliving a life that will on the second try be a happy and prosperous life.
spaceI don't know what to expect, but talking about my instincts tell me, this feeling, I have somewhat now a better understanding of my reality. I need to set goals and if I hit them good; if I don't, I need something to back up that goal so that it will eventually hit. I need to keep attacking. To be persistent. I hate the word "proactive". What does it mean? Pro- "for": so it means to be wanting to be active. That's stupid, everything that a person does is therefore an activity. To say you're proactive, it is nothing more than a mere word to fool yourself into thinking you're not doing enough activity. Some people know well how to use the word, others though, when they say it, it only drives those they say it to, to want to do less for them.
spaceDriving away. I remember when my father told me that I was driving the family away. The truth in his mind comes out when he's drunk, and ironically, the very nature of him telling me that is explaining what he does every time he drinks. I don't care about him anymore. My whole history of knowing who he is, and wanting him to be the father that I so ought him to be as, it's always been a disappointment. I wish I had a father who wasn't stubborn, who wasn't always running away from his problems by drinking whiskey, which he bought with money that I have no clue where he got it from since he doesn't even work yet. I wish I had a father who would actually does what he tells others to do. Obviously I care enough about him that I would spend this amount of time writing about him, but what does he care about me? He would so rather drive off to Vegas than to wait for his son at a homecoming game. It was because of him that I feel like there was no point in wanting to play sports, he was never there. My mother cared enough when I was young, but she never knew enough to understand as much as I did about the sport, enough as a father would have.
spaceI remember the first time I heard my name through the intercom when I made a play, looked over to the stands, and would see no one that even related to me. I had no family there to watch me, and everything that I did do was because I hoped for something. That something never happened. My family isn't perfect, which is something that I wouldn't expect from anyone, however it feels like the only thing holding me back is my family.
I want to get the ******** out of here.
+Bloodys Corpse+ Community Member 
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