Lone Ranger

As cliche as it may seem. This is how I feel. Lost. Alone. In the dark. Unsure... of everything. Things seem to lose their value, lose their meaning. I feel as though I'm losing everything. Especially a sense of self. I don't know how to deal with myself, or my thoughts. I write them down and read and reread and still they make no sense, still they seem written in another language, or at best, by another person.

Words roll off the tip of my tongue and I barely hear "I'm fine, everything's okay, I'm good, it's going well" and I am glad because lies burn through my ears like quick fire, and it really is quick fire question time. Everyone seems to want to know what the fuck is going on, including me of course.

I listen to music. I think. I have nothing to talk about. I feel happiness like an unreachable goal. It seeps away through walls I thought were air tight. I feel sadness like a disease, consumption of the only good things it seems are left in life and I feel myself waving goodbye to all that was ever good. Everything that has ever been good floats through my head when I have empty minutes that creep into hours and consume the time as though it was nothing. I think of people and places and things and tears fall but they feel like they are disappearing and I feel like I am disappearing and all of a sudden it doesn't matter and I feel the memory of when it did matter floating away too.

My words are poison and I feel as though I can't even trust myself anymore. I type out these words and then I realize that I never trusted myself anyway, I trust this, I type and I don't think I just let words flow as though they are excess which I need to excrete to cleanse myself. I need to cleanse myself. If only it didn't seem so... like the end.