wondering/wandering

i spend all my time wondering as i wander along the road of life. i make mistakes, i never truly learn from them. i hate the idea of love but at the same time i am a hopeless romantic.

i create my own myth in my head, reality never lives up to it. i then stand there alone and confused and wonder where it all went wrong. it never went wrong, it was never going there in the first place. i can not seem to read situations or people, i get it all confused.

this confusion building up and adding to the myriad of problems i see. i try and be a better person but this just makes me feel used. perhaps i was used but i allowed it to happen to me as i built a myth in my head. how do i bring these myths down with destroying myself or those around me?

i can not. i turn and run, hide away and hope it will fix itself. it never does and i end building another myth to allow myself to carry on, never fixing the root of the problem. the root will always find another way to grow anyway, so why delve deep into my psyche and sort myself when i can build a new life, it may not be real, it may all come tumbling down but just now it is all i have.

i hold on and start to lay the bricks.

Living

Life, we all want to survive or so we are told. Many of us don’t though. Today I am facing a void, another night spent thinking about the futility of my existence and why do I try. I spent the whole night wondering why I want to burden people so. My existence is a burden.

It is weight and an issue for people I know. I don’t want to talk and the more you tell me to talk, the less likely I am to do it. I want to be alone, I like the dark. I can not face being social now, I have tried it and it eats at me. All I can do is sit and scroll through internet articles, waiting until I can go home. Willing the time to pass, worried that I seem weird by existing. I sit and blend into the scene, let everyone else have a great time and maybe they will think I am loving being out.

I am not but don’t be weird, don’t make it weird. They all know I am weird. Everyone is looking at me, am I narcissistic? I shouldn’t care, I do care but I shouldn’t. Why are they looking at me, why talk to me? Please don’t talk to me, I can’t cope, I think slower, I talk slower and I can’t say what I want as I am too slow. The time has passed. Am I still here?

I don’t want to be here. I want to be in a room by myself and with nothing, nothing I want nothing, the trueness of nothing. No pressure, no need for acceptance, just escape. How do I escape, there is only one true escape. The judging that would come, would my soul escape that? Do I have a soul? I doubt it but would an eternity of this pain be worth the temporary escape? Would it be worse, could it be worse?

Life

Writing it used to be an escape and it still is but now the words never come. I wonder if the battle against depression and my other issues have stolen them? Will they ever come back or are they merely hiding and will presently bring themselves to the fore.

In the mean time, I have been investigating music again

It is probably ironic that I am doing this as my writing took over from my music when I started to go deaf, which fed into my depression, so is this a case of history repeating itself or as good a coping mechanism as I can find?

Words they are funny, they are everything, your life, your memories, your existence, and then you lose them.