The Funny Side of it All

"I guess I'm just so used to either drowning or flying, I'm unsure of anything inbetween" Don't believe what they say It doesn't get better It gets worse and worse Until you feel nothing, numb And you long for that empty pain you once felt. That empty pain you wished away And you take a blade, Hoping, that just maybe you will feel something, anything And you feel that empty pain And it hurts so so much And it gets worse and worse Until you feel nothing And before you've a chance to realise You're stuck in this cycle called depression


5. Chapter Four

And she savoured that moment because in that moment alone, she felt alive, that moment was not past, nor future, but life itself.

Life makes no sense, it's not simple, like the things they teach young minds in a school, it's like a TV show, a series of fictional moments, except we are the characters and we are too drunk on the idea of love that we cannot see the element fakery each word and action that occurs holds. In a school they prepare you for the future, insert numbers and intelligence into your minds, but there is no future, for once you are in that so called future it will become the past, the future is the past, the past is the future. Memories them self make me spite life, memories are the past, we make memories, we are making the past. "Life is fun" they say, " Things get better" they say, but it does not matter if things get better, or if I have a moment of fulfilment, because that moment will become the past, that moment of happiness will slip through my fingers like water, and it won't matter. Human kind itself is corrupt, a chain of fiction. You learn, then you pay to learn, you live to work, you work to live and then you die, you rot, and you end the same as you started, nothing. There is no beauty to life, from an early age you are brainwashed to care for paper notes and metal coins, money causes tradegies, greed, money disgraces the sole purpose of money. You're made to think that education, universities, colleges and jobs will make you successful and happy, but what is successful about working in order to live, living in order to work, that is not happiness, that is the world we are forced to live in. Our parents create us and our teachers mould us for university, for jobs, they don't prepare us for life, for emotions, for the things that matter, but then again what would one consider as something that matters is this utterly fucked up world? Maybe I want to die because the whole base of life disgusts me and the people in it make me cringe with disappointment, maybe I don't want to give the government the satisfaction of me joining in with the millions of blind workers that live to work, work to live.

But then again, maybe I'm just depressed.

Today I went out, with my friends, but what are my friends to me really, I could never see any of them again in my life and no feelings would I feel towards it all, I'm losing my ability to feel, and that is all I had left. But yes I went out, I laughed, talked, smiled and ate, but I laughed at things my mind found funny but my heart did not, and talked of things I gave no concern for, no passion for, no care for at all, I smiled for the sake of smiling, a waste of the effort my muscles used to create a mask for my despair, and I ate things my tongue liked, but things my stomach and throat hated. Everything is backwards, I feel as if everything is just slipping away from me, from my weak grasp to hold on to anything, I'm so weak, so alone, so sad. My eyes are barely open, but what even is there to see, the ceiling i awake to each morning, the same faces I see each day, life is so indescribably plain and purposeless, and why a person would choose to suffer the entrapment of life I will never understand. I feel as though everything is going, my life is being sucked by the happy and the free. I can't live in this facade much longer.

And so I walk to my room, my escape, but each step is harder to take and my limbs become heavier, and ache, as if my body is portraying the feelings of my heart and the weakness of my mind. I ache, in my body, in my heart, in my mind, I ache. Even to open my eyelids seems a task only for the strongest of men.

I've shut down. Frozen. Eyes shut, body still, heart aching. But floods of tears break my barriers which are eyelids and a sea of despair escapes onto my face, then the floor. I'm breaking, decaying, soon there'll be nothing, no one, no one to love, no one to save.

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