waterworks
in the luminous darkness
- Jan 31, 2024
- 104
I don't know what's worse about this life, the silence of the answer to it all or the endless possibility. Even now, as I think about my own life, trying to accept the death I so carefully chose, I'm faced with an aching pain I can't describe. It feels like the pain of a life that failed its purpose, but I don't know what that purpose is. I just see all the pain I will leave behind and cannot help but despair my existence. How could I, something so small, so insignificant, feel such pain, leave such horror in its wake.
I feel damned, like I'm stepping into an empty void where I will drift for eternity with nothing but the memory of the things I should have done... should have been. Is this fear? Is this just the primal instinct that burdens the mind of even the most tortured soul? What are we living for? I just need to know; I just need to be told that I am the mistake, the regret of the architect of this silent world. Just tell me I'm destined for despair. JUST TELL ME.
If there is a god, they never said they loved me, but that's not so much the problem. Could they not say they hate me? From the empty life I've lived so long that even I have become an empty shell of meaningless actions and isolation, how can I not say this means I'm hated. The world I've encountered, full of love and opportunity that I squandered because my eyes were blinded by the trauma of the life I've had, this world now only has pain for me. Was there a divinity in that small window when the world opened up for me? That tiny moment in time when I could have shed my despair, maybe become someone worthy of love, was there a divinity then? Some voice calling out, now silent.
How can I live like this :( ? How can I die like this?! How can I die in the gutter drowning in my tears and misery and not say this world set me up to fail? So many questions and yet no one can answer. No one can see beyond the letters, the sentence, the grammar, the speech... the blank stare; no one can speak to my soul.
The billions of lives that have lived and loved and suffered until now, each one no different from me. Many with a fate so much worse than mine. Why can't I look at that and find peace in my end. But even now, on the edge of death life calls to me. WHAT'S WORSE? Will they not say I could have chosen to see the good? Will they not tell me I forged my own despair, that it was my fault? Will they not say "I don't know why he did it"? They, who are loved by this life I suppose, or perhaps who understand it enough to be loved by it.
I just want to know what I am.
I feel damned, like I'm stepping into an empty void where I will drift for eternity with nothing but the memory of the things I should have done... should have been. Is this fear? Is this just the primal instinct that burdens the mind of even the most tortured soul? What are we living for? I just need to know; I just need to be told that I am the mistake, the regret of the architect of this silent world. Just tell me I'm destined for despair. JUST TELL ME.
If there is a god, they never said they loved me, but that's not so much the problem. Could they not say they hate me? From the empty life I've lived so long that even I have become an empty shell of meaningless actions and isolation, how can I not say this means I'm hated. The world I've encountered, full of love and opportunity that I squandered because my eyes were blinded by the trauma of the life I've had, this world now only has pain for me. Was there a divinity in that small window when the world opened up for me? That tiny moment in time when I could have shed my despair, maybe become someone worthy of love, was there a divinity then? Some voice calling out, now silent.
How can I live like this :( ? How can I die like this?! How can I die in the gutter drowning in my tears and misery and not say this world set me up to fail? So many questions and yet no one can answer. No one can see beyond the letters, the sentence, the grammar, the speech... the blank stare; no one can speak to my soul.
The billions of lives that have lived and loved and suffered until now, each one no different from me. Many with a fate so much worse than mine. Why can't I look at that and find peace in my end. But even now, on the edge of death life calls to me. WHAT'S WORSE? Will they not say I could have chosen to see the good? Will they not tell me I forged my own despair, that it was my fault? Will they not say "I don't know why he did it"? They, who are loved by this life I suppose, or perhaps who understand it enough to be loved by it.
I just want to know what I am.
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