My phone died? Good. It’s nothing more than a distraction to waver my attention away from the depression that creeps into my brain whenever I have no outlet to latch onto; to try desperately to detach myself from the nothingness. Whenever I’m not traveling the country, whenever I am stable and stagnant, I come into contact with my inner self, which isn’t even enough to entertain myself for awhile. How do I suppose I can entertain others? Mediocre guitarist. I’ve played for 10 years. I still mess up on simple chord progressions? Please. People think my traveling is a dream, when in reality it’s a mechanism I’ve created without knowing at first, to escape myself. Derealization isn’t a part of me, it is me. It mine as well be my fucking name. Forgetting all passion, always on the search for a distraction. It’s a facade. I’m a facade. I’m a mask, nothing more. At the core of me lies something that very few people can love. For god sake, every serious relationship I’ve had I’ve been cheated on. And I tried my hardest to be the best, to bring my greatest flowers to the table, and I did. For god sake, my dad left me when i was 3. Haven’t heard from that sack of fucking shit since. Yeah, I’m nice, I’m polite, I’ll go out of my way. You won’t remember. Give me something to believe in, I’ll give you something to forget.
The world, it’s people, is no more a place to explore for the simple act of living, it’s now a subconscious, desperate, fruitless search for the escape of me, which will lead me to nothing(myself). It’s a deathly cycle, never to escape, only the short term fleeting experience of distraction. Never fulfilling. Never whole. I’m surprised I treat my body like I want to live forever. I’m surprised I even get up in the morning.
gracieabrams
areudirty
amandla
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