Take me from the turbulence of my situation, make me a pawn in your silly game. I have grown bored with the boredom of my four empty walls, nothing in between but hollow memories and broken shadows. I fill the void in my life with things of no consequence, of nurturing playthings which hold no hope of sustaining my feelings of happiness. I walk through the same door every night, shame upon my brow, hatred in my veins, exasperation in my step.
I have begun to hate this place for what it is, what it was, what it has made out of me.
I no longer wish to satisfy myself with the company of others, as they pity me; or worse yet, they misunderstand the reasons behind my personality. I am flawed beyond what is normal, unwilling to make the proper adjustments that may help me heal. Words are becoming less brilliant, with sighs and groans my preferred method of communication; but to whom will I communicate when I have cut all from my existence?
Of all the people in this world, is it myself who understands me the least? Why can't I be happy for at least a fleeting moment without having to reap the windfall of sadness that always accompanies its denial? Where have I gone wrong in all of this? Must I forever pretend to be happy, to settle for less than what I feel I deserve, in order to make sense of my own life?
Is anyone even listening anymore?
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