Becoming The Drone

Endless grind day after day is destroying me. It’s now so clear why we are so blind. We are distracted from that of our own lives. My mind has no time and so it becomes meek. My writings bland my feelings blank my thoughts hazy and I can’t seem to catch my breath. The controller does the controlling while the Muppet's do thy bidding. And so we march on down their path forgetting ourselves and losing our ways.

Damaged Goods (Busted)

My writings of a girl that I had once known whose innocents was unwillingly taken away at about the age of 14...

Damaged Goods (Busted)

Taken away, beaten and bruised they now lie on the floor alone. Covered in a bed of filth they are slowly rotting away. You would think they are diseased by the way society overlooks them. Seventy five percent off the original price, their worth has declined to near paper thin levels. Scavengers now prey on the worthless, seeking to take what is left. Beautiful had become ravaged now the ravaged are plundered. Clueless to their own reality they only wish to be free from the pain. Try to run, this pain is never ending. We always fall short of our destination. And so I leave you, just like the rest, wallowing alone. I offered my best.

This is not an end. I will return to save my friend.

Emotionless Wreck

I’m drained and the flair has faded life has finally taken its toll on me. Writing which used to come so easily and naturally now seems like such a struggle for me. Perhaps it is only a really bad case of writers block. I need to find my center again and grow from there.

Jobs Are For Losers (Not The Weak)

With two years comes a new Job which is a “NEW” job not a “GOOD” job. Or should I say it’s better than nothing. It’s quite odd how I ran away from school only to find myself working in a facility with over 200 employees. I’ve been there a year now and it’s funny how I still have flashbacks of school at work. It’s nerve racking and kind of reminds me of a war Veterans flashbacks to combat.

I sit alone at lunch and stare at a wall. That’s hard to admit for me. It’s extremely difficult to eat with so many people around, I feel like everyone is critiquing how I eat. I’m so afraid to speak I don’t want to make my coworkers dislike me. My words are few and far between. When I am spoken to I come off awkward because I am panicking in my head trying to think of the right thing to say. I avoid looking at people when walking past them and I think that this is making people think that I am a snob. I can never escape the feeling of everyone’s eyes on me judging me.

Like torture of my own making, that is my life and that is my job with social anxiety.

Taking A Life

An understanding of what’s to be. The life that I near so shamelessly threw away…

“What is it for?” I yelled out in pain.

Clutching my heart in agony, I asked “why must it hurt?”

Alone and bleeding I couldn’t take the pain.

Broken to the very last bone in my body, I was better off dead.

Hatred in my heart and blood in my hands it felt like acid when those tears fell.

Dwelling on the past, my heart beats ever so slow.

Not all things are without regret…

On that night I found him as he’d been waiting for my eyes to open.

Like a father comforting his son after a nightmare.

He took away the fear.

Better Late Than Never

Sickness runs through him, pulled himself up only to stumble once again.

Fast forward two years… I’m now 22. I feel so old and yet people will still say I’m so young. I missed so much of my life, all but the last 2ish of my teen years were a loss… And now it feels like it’s starting all over again. Only it’s a little different this time around. I’m no longer stuck in a room but the last few years still feel like a waste even after breaking free of my self made prison.

I need an outlet, I need to see my feelings in front of me and I need to start writing again. It’s been so long and I’ve lost so much over the last two years. It’s time to bring it back…