Wednesday, January 31, 2007

I'm the splenda in your sickeningly sugar-coated world

Who am I to assume that my fucked up existence even matters in this world? Who am I to judge what will one day prove to be important? I’m nobody… but in the same respect I am somebody. I am a blip on the radar, a face in the crowd, but I’m different. I feel this fact every single day. I don’t fit in, and I used to hate that fact, now it’s simply there. I don’t know why, but I think it was supposed to be this way. I was supposed to be different, not better, simply different. It’s kind of like sugar and splenda. I’m the splenda, but even though I’m “healthy”, someday they’ll discover that I’m only slowly killing you. I wish my mind would work. This life is getting me closer and closer to the nowhere I’m destined to end up in. Middle of the road, center of the highway, waiting for traffic to come and sweep my worries away. Ventilators are far easier than trying to find reasons for every breath. In, out, in, out, in… hold it until you burst. Brighten the walls if not the world. Some say I’m depressive, I prefer antagonistic. I’m out to show the world that they’re happier than at least one billionth of the population. Try to outdo me, I dare you to loathe the world as much as I wish I could love it. We’re opposites, attracting, and it’s about time you realized we’ll never figure all this out. Broken, blistered, healed, and tainted. But still wishing on the stars that have already burned out. Ever notice the ones that burn the brightest are the first to fade away? I was bright once too… that’s what they’ll say. I was full of life, and reason, and goals. What they won’t tell you is how I got here. You’ll learn though. This road, it’s contagious, and you may not know it yet, but you’re only a few twists and turns away. Life’s ironic like that, you just have to learn to laugh. Laugh at the heartaches, the losses, the pain, and maybe someday it’ll give up. Life gave up on me a long time ago, too bad I’m more stubborn than anyone realized. This is me holding on, this is me not letting go. This is me in the truest, barest, most disgustingly honest hues. The truth is ugly, but from far away I look beautiful. The scars are minute, the darkness shadows all truth, and you’ll come running if you ever see the paths I mistakenly took. They’re beautiful, and dangerous, and in the end you’ll see why your darkest moments show you who you truly are. If you can look in the mirror and accept your face of darkness, I applaud you. I can barely manage to glance at mine.