I don’t feel like disappearing anymore, maybe because I’ve already disappeared. I’ve almost text you my anxiety ,my fear , my pain , my disappointment but I didn’t . I think I’ve reached that line, the line I heard them talk about. Things stop at that line, time stops and feelings do not exist. I don’t know why I feel like this , like I have nothing inside me , like I’m not there . I want to call anybody just to have them babble in my ears trivial things, I want to hear them judge me constantly and then give me advice on how should I lead my crocked life . I want their voices to conquer the voices in my head, it’s so loud in here I can’t hear myself think sometimes.
Yesterday I talked to God , I told him all my troubles like you told me , and yet I feel like I don’t deserve the chance of justifying my life , of justifying what I’ve become , how I screw this up and how I’m unable to fix things anymore .I feel like I’m autistic , I feel like I’m negotiating the world every day of my life . And like an autistic child I’m unable to cry, to scream to yell at the faces of all those who do not speak the language I do . I wanted to cry so bad, even though crying won’t fix anything nor it will change the fact that I’m stuck here forever , I still wanted to cry like a baby till I lose my conscious or something , I wanted to do anything ,anything that would make me alive and not just make me (ME) oh God I’ve been me for so long , it is tiring So tiring , I wanted to rest for a while . just for a while , I wanted to escape ME . Ironically everyone I know wants to be me for some reason I AM something to wish for. if they only knew !
I’ve read this story about a man without a shadow, a demon form another life time , he lived off people’s memories and toke them as his own , he felt their pain and sorrow and acted as if they were his own . I envied him, for not being attached to no one and to nothing even his pain was a pain he chooses to feel and to suffer . noting was inflected upon him only the things he inflected upon himself .
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