Descent into Ease
I find some things in life easy. I find it easy to excise individuals from my life, convincing myself that they’re toxic. Perhaps they are, or perhaps I’m the poisonous one in the relationship. I find ease in finding new ways to tear myself down, and thus retroactively hurting others.
Though my ease is a double-edged sword. At times, in circumstances, I can find people unworthy of my attention or trust, perhaps I struggle with this - or perhaps this a worthwhile trait. I am slow to trust, and prefer to keep it that way - most often I remain in a state of unease in situations or with others. This could be a result of other factors - mere observance of personality traits. I’ve made many mistakes and sometimes even repeat them, I often do not allow myself to be entranced by circumstances.
But I can be broken. I can be hypnotized by individuals. I can be rendered to my basic desire for affection. I descend into an eased and relaxed state, where I am willing and desire to trust. I can be altered, in some sense - if I find that object of desire, although that object is usually a rarity.
Over a period of what feels like an eternity I have found peculiar set of desires. They are unlike any desires I’ve had before, and I driven by my wish to keep them close, to make them mine at all costs - even at my own mental fortitude. Often times in this walk I feel as though I’m balancing fire and I come close to burning myself, or perhaps burning my desire - in which case I’d rather burn up than allow the flame to touch my desire.
I am paralyzed by this will. I viciously claw my towards it. If I must wait for my desires, then wait I shall.
I am harmful individual. Not necessarily to others, unless my words are harmful. However I am most harmful to myself. None could be more brutal than oneself, I know this truth intimately. I feel it when I’m alone - I can no longer push it down. I can’t hold my breath in a an endless expanse of nothingness, devoid of feeling or mercy, emotion or light.
The harm that I practice gives me piece of mind, in some odd sense. Though it pains others. I often wonder why. I know that I would feel the same worry and panic that they might feel if these roles were reversed, however I cannot look upon myself in such a way. I retrace the scars I’ve made, new and old, I question my worth. I feel empty - isolated. I fear my actions push everyone away.
I fear silence, I fear loneliness, but yet it brings me peace. I feel enjoy the empty space. I feel deserving of it. Eventually, I would like to see how long I could last as truly being here. I throw on a smile and fake my way through life for people, yet when I’m alone I’m heartless and empty.
I wish something would take this weight off me. Bear my pain, at least some of it.
Surprisingly, I’ve not decided to write my final page. Not for a while at least. The last time I had any serious considerations towards how it may be written, I ended up throwing out the pages - I suppose I thought they were unworthy of sending off to an editor, or perhaps I was disappointed in my progress thus far. I’m not sure I’ll ever know. I simply did not find the strength to finish it. Or perhaps the strength was in finding more experiences?
I know the theme of the ending, it’s rather simple really - and somewhat overdone. I believe it’s a smidge of plagiarism, but that’s alright - it’s my story.
To be honest, this is a story as old as time. A misbegotten world, an inconsequential fate - I was doomed to fail from the moment I was conceived. I crave escape, I long to be rid of this voice - yet my pain ever magnifies. This feeling is soul crushing, yet I have no fear of death.