Im scared that im a parasite. Im feeding off my own terrible memories and it makes me want to take last breaths. Im so tired, not the kind of tired that you sleep off. Not the tired that goes away with meditation and that can be cried or blinked away. Im tired, as in my eyes are enveloped in a black shadow. The shadow that i carry with me everywhere. The shadow that holds my thoughts, my hate, my rage, my lust, my dreams and my failure. This world isnt cruel, this world isnt even mean, its just a world that wasnt created for people like me. People who think too much, people who want perfection and nothing else, people who love far too much and easily that it gets taken and thrown away.
Im worried that im a parasite. Im feeding off my own apathy and its turning me into an alien.
I eat too much, i dont eat enough. Im too fat, im too thin. Im intelligent, but im an idiot. Im beautiful, but im scarred. Im just lingering there in my cocoon and i have waited long enough. When will i be able to fly? Or am i just wrapped up in my own guilt, my own fear, my own cowardly thoughts?
Everyday i wake up. I get to start my day. I get to breathe and my body gets to function in its miraculous ways. But i somehow just dont feel alive. I am certainly clinging on to the hope that this isnt what being alive means. That there are this many trials and tribulations. Oh, how i want to take my last breath. To just lie there and inhale a lifetime of relief. But i wont, i cant.
Some would call me depressed and psychotic, but i like to call myself a shadow. Im a shadow, a creation of everything around me. I carry darkness but am created by light. I come in many forms but leave always when darkness comes, and it comes far too often.
I thought i had it all figured out for a while. I could eat again without doing the maths in my head, i could smile again without feeling the strain in my cheeks, i could feel again without fear. But this left as quickly as it came. I dont know what to do, im just a parasite after all.
A parasite, a shadow.
Am i destined for something great, what will my future hold? Apparently its all in my own hands, but my hands are made of dust. Dust from the past, dust of what could and should have been. Dust stained with guilt and remorse. Dust formed from hate and anger.
A parasite, a shadow, dust.
This is a nightmare, and i fear that waking up may mean forever sleeping. I rip my own hair out to remember that i am alive, i rub my skin until it bleeds and gives way to the flesh underneath, i scream so loud that my ears ring. I know, then, that i am real.
Life goes on.
Sometimes i think im a musician, an artist, a psychologist, a philosopher, an inventor, a revolutionist. But then i remember, im just a parasite, a shadow, dust.
Im sorry that i have nothing better to write to you, im sorry that this is all i can give. Im sorry that my life has yet to bear its fruits but most of all im sorry i am writing this. That i am what i am. That i was created in this light, in this darkness.
My tears add to the river of those who have cried before me.
My fears ignite the flame.
Its a viscious cycle that never ceases;
not tonight, never again.
Dr.Nourozi - Prescription: 1 cup of happy, 2 drops of ignorance, 3 pinches of bliss.
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