Instinct comes back by the shape of my past. It doesn't disturb me, it doesn't irritate anymore.I've got immune to invisibility. Maybe I sank into the ultimate ego sea
of despair
of failures
of feeling numb
drawning and coming back to the surface,
just to breath the same old air you inhaled all your life. all the scents and remarkable memories associated to them.
a scratch that looks like a tattoo is the ultimate trophy of losers.
So it seems, I survived. the storm in the sea. Still looking for something to guide me. to lead me to a safe spot. on Earth.
I'm tired of dreams. Of lies and expectations. of deception and confusion. messages never said, lines never read. truth never told.
I want to live the truth. I want don't want to know it. I want to fucking live it!!
Under my feet there's only the floor that I once lied on, naked, wasted, spent, cover in cum and fake pleasure. the pleasure of pleasing others.
So nude, I never felt cold. Now, writing, I feel like the real exposure is coming. It's right at my door, knocking and ready to break in if I don't answer.
I will answer for all my acts of insanity if that's gonna help.
BUT IT'S NOT.
Everybody else is living a lie.
in hell. the one they built to themselves.
And all this time, I did think I was the one who had problems.
I only have nothing. and nothing is enough to make me sure something's wrong and changes are needed.
