"Long black night, morning frost

 I'm still here, but all is lost" - The Mountain Goats

Potter's Field

 

First Few Hours

     It's always those first few hours of the day that hit me the hardest. Those first few hours spent alone in bed, just my putrid mind and I with no distractions whatsoever. I wish we got along better, my mind and I. I wish we could agree with each other for once. I wish he would stop making believe things. I wish I didn't believe in anything at all. My psyche is a soft clay, shaped and molded by every thought ran through it and it's current form is a grotesque, obscene, and disgusting display. I can cover it up all I want but those first few hours of the day will always be spent face to face with it, staring into its ugly visage, waiting to shove it under the bed away from everyone else.

Mistakes

    Every day I'm flash banged with constant reminders of my fuck ups. Maybe it's a good thing? Reminders of what not to do next time I guess. Still, it feels so taunting, so humiliating, so defeating. I'm more than aware of what I did wrong in every instance, it's not like I wanted to do what I did... well, I guess I can't really say that considering I still did... but wouldn't you also jump into the middle of the ocean if you thought you were on fire? Stupid analogy probably, I'm just make excuses aren't I? What's done is done ultimately, and now I'm reaping blighted crops.

The End

    Feels like every decent moment of my life is loomed over by a terrible shadow waiting to consume me. I haven't felt true peace in forever. I wanna feel like things are looking up but it's impossible because my paranoia is always proven right, every fucking time. I've had so many nice moments of my life ruined in an instant and I just don't know what the fuck to do. I can never let my guard down. I can never relax. It hurts to smile knowing I'll have it wiped off my face soon after. It hurts so much. There was a time when I felt that maybe I wasn't alone but it's seeming more and more like I am.

Mornin'

    I don't think I'm a good person, never claimed to be one. A decent person at best and that's still really stretching it. At this point I'm just trying not to be a worse person and fall back into old habits. I guess that's commendable, I don't really know. Despite every ounce of self awareness in my bones I still manage to make the same mistakes over and over again, less frequently I guess but still. All I can do is pick myself back up and try again. 

蜘蛛

    I feel like I spend most of my time stuck inside my head every day. Stuck in a hell of my own design, trapped between countless paranoid thoughts and ideas that may or may not be true. If it's not one thing it's the other, there's no escape from this labyrinth. I make desperate Faustian searches for the truth in order to appease my stupid mind and it always leaves me dead in the dirt, unsatisfied, and more broken than I was before. Sometimes I wish I never knew the truth to begin with, sometimes I wish I could stay ignorant and happy forever. All I do every single fucking minute of my life is THINK AND THINK AND THINK AND THINK AND I'M SO TIRED, I'M SO FUCKING TIRED.

I'm alone up here, just my thoughts and I.

Forever entangled in a web of paranoia.

Waiting to be devoured.

■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■

    Depression eats at me like a hungry cannibal. I can't discern proper thoughts from anxiety and paranoia anymore. Every day is a struggle to smile and feel genuine warmth in my heart. I'm cold, so cold. ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■

I just want to be held.

Finality

    Sometimes it's nice to just look up at the stars and feel insignificant for a while. It's like all of my worries suddenly vanish in the vast emptiness of the material world. I am nothing ultimately, and I take comfort in that. I take comfort in the fact that these horrid, rotten feelings deep inside me mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. They'll pass eventually, like everything else in life. Withered to dust, and scattered in the wind. That's not to say the good feelings will last forever, but at least they left good memories. I don't know, It feels like every step forward leaves me three steps back somehow. I guess all I can really do is keep trying and also appreciate the beauty currently in my life before it too withers to dust and scatters in the wind. I'm trying, I really am.

I wanna puke.