Proxycake
Matrimony
- Feb 20, 2023
- 85
When does it become apparent who I am, and what my name is? When does the day come where the only words that fall from my mouth do not mention killing myself? Humans shouldn't do that. We are like animals; roadkill who jump in front of cars, fawns separated from home, to lose the touch of a mother or a father too early.
How, and what would I be right now, if I never ruined my own life with the grievances of many others? Would I be this terrible of a person, still?
I stopped biting my fingernails. They've grown out; I want to bite them again. My teeth, my gums, they ache.
I stopped drinking because I was told, nowadays it always feels as if I am intoxicated.
I was prescribed more medication. It is wiping my memory. I am dementia ridden, at my young age.
I am obedient, I do what the Earth tells me to, in search for answers, and I still do not know.
What is my name? I have absolutely forgotten by now. What do I look like? The mirrors morph and swirl when I step in front of them.
I wish I knew my name, and what place I used to have in society, before God punished me and set me here. I live a pathetic life, I am lonely. I used to be successful. Now I lay in my unmade bed that seems to, no matter how many times I fix it, mess itself up again. I keep finding bugs on me. Insects in the bathtub are a gift from God.
Nothing about me is personal, because my home address and my face are not personal. It is not what I used to look like.
Every living day of my life and every time I feel my lungs expanded in my chest, the burning urge in my ribcage screams louder, like a truck full of gasoline crashed on the side of the road.
Every therapist I have told about my problems have left. I am many people. I am one, and I am wrong about the others. Where is home, God, give me a sign? The moment you do, my life will go to it, and it will end with a handgun.
There is no other person in this world that thinks like this, and my suffering is minimal compared to everyone else.
How, and what would I be right now, if I never ruined my own life with the grievances of many others? Would I be this terrible of a person, still?
I stopped biting my fingernails. They've grown out; I want to bite them again. My teeth, my gums, they ache.
I stopped drinking because I was told, nowadays it always feels as if I am intoxicated.
I was prescribed more medication. It is wiping my memory. I am dementia ridden, at my young age.
I am obedient, I do what the Earth tells me to, in search for answers, and I still do not know.
What is my name? I have absolutely forgotten by now. What do I look like? The mirrors morph and swirl when I step in front of them.
I wish I knew my name, and what place I used to have in society, before God punished me and set me here. I live a pathetic life, I am lonely. I used to be successful. Now I lay in my unmade bed that seems to, no matter how many times I fix it, mess itself up again. I keep finding bugs on me. Insects in the bathtub are a gift from God.
Nothing about me is personal, because my home address and my face are not personal. It is not what I used to look like.
Every living day of my life and every time I feel my lungs expanded in my chest, the burning urge in my ribcage screams louder, like a truck full of gasoline crashed on the side of the road.
Every therapist I have told about my problems have left. I am many people. I am one, and I am wrong about the others. Where is home, God, give me a sign? The moment you do, my life will go to it, and it will end with a handgun.
There is no other person in this world that thinks like this, and my suffering is minimal compared to everyone else.
