RAMBLING

There’s no coincidence
this world turns in a circle
doesn’t it
so right and wrong
and what’s meant to be
it’s a consequence
of being aware enough
to experience it.

There’s a lot of time spent
on the outside looking in
wishing something clicked
making deeper connections
within
but it’s all
it’s all bullshit
isn’t it?
And giving purpose
it’s only a “being human” thing.
Isn’t it?

I don’t understand
why people are so afraid to die
as if this reality is really something
comforting
worth holding fast to
instead of something
people have just grown with
and came to get used to
but if death is a sleep
then eternity is a dream
and the end is only whatever beginning
you build after falling in.

Wouldn’t it be cool
if we didn’t have to wake up?
Wouldn’t it be cool
to dream?

(Don’t go towards the light.)

Then again
ha
I’m wrong about everything.
Let’s hope it’s the end
seriously.

But.
What about you?

Don’t you have goals and dreams
and things like that
that extend beyond
what you’re capable of accomplishing?
Do you dig at your skin
begging for puropse
or direction
or motivation
to get you going
somewhere
or wherever
in whatever direction
you once imagined
you were meant to be moving?
So what’s all that shit mean?
Nothing?
No thing?

Meaning.
Supposed to.
Something.
It’s all
nothing.

I feel this shit
and there’s no one to talk to
right
because everyone you try to
isn’t like you
and they just kind of eye you like
what’s the fucking point, retard?
So I’m writing
hoping someone’s like
fuck dude
I feel you
but no
I’m lying
because only you
can feel you
and I’m just trying to purge
so I don’t have to feel
any of this shit
anymore.

I’m alone
yeah
always alone
because I can’t even feel
myself
and
I can’t stop my brain
from doing this
I want to blow the pieces out
that keep me trapped
thinking like this.
You feel me dude?
No.
No.
Cool.
Cool.
You were never supposed to
anyway
I guess.

Meaning.
Supposed to.
Something.
It’s all
distraction.
It’s all
nothing.

No one can hear me
anyway.

—–

This is me, psychotic spiraling
thinking my conscious mind
means something.
Everything fits in perfectly
and I can’t find my place anywhere.
No one has ever wanted;
I have wanted everyone.

I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m tired.

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