Six feet from the edge . . .

So many nights spent alone in this apartment. Sometimes I feel like it is just practice for my inevitable future. No matter how many roommates, brief relationships, or how many friendship I cultivate through the years, I always end up alone and isolated.

Sometimes I wonder how much it would take to let go of this survivor's instinct and take the headlong plunge into the abyss. . . .


So many people are so against it. How bad do things have to get before contemplation turns into attempt, and attempt into success? How much willpower those people had to fight the baser instinct of survival to complete their goal of self inflicted death.

Every man, women, and child is born upon this earth doomed to die. Date and method of execution unknown. Its not the best idea to try and hurry the inevitable along. I have to constantly remind myself to take it one day at a time. Enjoy the little pleasures that I have. Spend time with those around me who make this life worth living, and find a few moments' peace whenever I can. Some days are a lot easier then others though.

Love and loss

I need to build a wall around my heart. This hurts way more then I thought it would. Gotta stop developing feelings for those I can't have. These old pangs don't get any easier no matter how familiar they become.

Pretty soon I'll again be alone. Perhaps it's time to just get used to my own company. Don't seem to be worth other people's time and attention beyond a few months.

Right now it just hurts. I guess you can get used to anything after a while though.

Brick by brick, stone by stone. Build the walls so they can't see the pain that flourishes within.

How many times I've swollowed back these same bitter tears

Potential

How many years its been since high school. How stupidly optimistic I was back then. How much everything has changed, and yet stayed the same. Same town, same depression.
So many years. So much potential back then. Some many failures since.

Every move, every venture failed. Now I wander these streets, wounded and defeated. I want to work out again. I want the strength in my arm back. Not to struggle to lift the simplest things, or to feel pain every time I Put pressure on my knee.

How many more failures am I destined for? How many more tries do I have left in me?

Familiar pains.

How many times I've wandered back and fourth down the same streets, gazing at the same sites. Wondering how much lighter the world would be if I wasn't actually in it. Some of my darkest hours have been spent wandering these streets, full of loathing and hopelessness.


What's on your mind? The mocking question FB asks every day. Some things are better locked away into the deepest recesses, never to be shared. But sometimes those things build up, screaming to be released into the ether.


Everyone, no matter how tough, angry, or brave they act like on the outside, have a breaking point on the inside. It hurts knowing how fragile your current situation in life is. So easy for everything that you have to shatter around you, leaving you with bloodied fingers as you attempt to pick up the pieces.


Sometimes this life feels like it's not so bad. Others it seems the most unbearable.