Piece of Mind.

You’ve taken a piece of my mind.

My reality is still so full of your aftermath, so

I’m constantly reminded of you everywhere I go.

My dreams, the one place I can go to escape the fear,

are still tormented by the events that escalated in this past year.

You’ll never steal my happiness,

you’ll never liberate me of my freedoms,

you’ll never have my defeat on your list of accomplishments

but I can never attain peace;

you’ve managed to take that much from me.

My mind follows my heart.

But, in this case, that peace of my mind

is all it took to tear me apart.

Save.

Where did everything go wrong. When did my life start to go downhill. What decision was it that changed everything? I'm looking back on my life and I don't know what the heck happened. Sometimes I wish there were save points, like video games. I could just choose a point to redo and relive all over again. What point would I return to though? Would I go back to Freshman year, when I didn't know true friendship, yet I didn't know drama either? Or would I go back a year, before I lost three of my best friends. Or at least I feel like I've lost the last two of them by now. Would I go back to before, when I didn't have to pretend to be happy every single day? Maybe I'd go all the way back to my childhood and avoid coming here altogether. Would it make a difference anyway? Would I be doomed to repeat my mistakes and bad choices? I don't even know if I've learned anything. I feel like I'm still trapped by the evils I've been through. What I wouldn't give to go back and change that part of my life. What I wouldn't give to be normal, to be able to trust again without being so paranoid. I hate where my life is going right now. I don't have anyone anymore. I want to go back, I want to have what we used to have. I miss my life how it used to be, and all my friends and old relationships before I went and fucked it all up. That seems like the only thing I'm good at doing these days.

Voices.

I know that the voices in my head are just telling me lies, but I don't know how to turn them off. I'm not as independent as I thought I was.

I wanna break on down, but I can't stop now.

I feel so tired lately; so emotionally exhausted. But it's harder than ever to let anyone know. I can't hurt those I care about, so I'll put on a mask and pretend everything is alright. And maybe that will be enough to get me through the day. I just wish someone would hug me and tell me it's going to be okay. I wish I wasn't so independent and paranoid.

Don't just read this.

Don't stop, or slow down. Don't just hope, wish or dream. Don't regret or hesitate. Don't close your eyes; don't be afraid or insecure. Don't hold back, give up, or give in. Live. Life is meant to be experienced. It may sound silly, but you can only evolve with experience. Watching life pass you by is simply not an alternative. When you look back on your life, make sure there's something worthwhile to reminisce. We eventually laugh at our mistakes, cry over our happiness, and forget our past troubles. Take a chance, meet someone new, do something different. You don't have to like it, but at least you can say you did it.

Irrational Paranoia

Something's always wrong. I don't know if I'm getting closer to the answer or just uncovering more messed up shit that's wrong with me. I'm so FUCKING paranoid. I hate it. It's been like this for so long. When I was younger I would have irrational fears that everyone I knew were actors and I was the center of some giant prank or test. Not to say I thought the world revolved around me, anything but that. I hated it and I was afraid of any social interaction whatsoever. I think the real reason for such fears is some irrational Paranoia I hold for people in general. I don't even know what triggered it. Was it something from my childhood that freaked me out subconsciously? Is this normal for everyone? I have no way of knowing. My Paranoia tells me that I'm the weird one. I once asked my dad about it. He just told me it was normal for everyone. My Paranoia tells me he's probably lying to me, how could he know, he knows nothing about Psychology. That's the thing. I have a hard time trusting people. I'm subject my closest friends to this craziness. I hate it. I can't trust anyone sometimes. I always feel like EVERYONE hates me. It makes me want to do them all a favor and rid this planet of my existence. No matter what anyone tells me, I can't trust a soul. Being social is so hard. I know I'm new at this, but if I knew how hard it would be a year ago, I'd have stayed by myself. Safe in my room, where I don't have to worry if anyone likes me. My video game world is perfect. The way people feel about you is pre-programmed. You have status bars to show your status with society. My pokemon love me. My toys made great friends when I was a kid with no real friends. I can alter my appearance in WoW and other RPGs so that I can be whomever I wish to be. I don't have to be this skinny, ugly, dorky, socially-awkward person that I have come to hate. I can't fight it sometimes. I wish I could say I was happy. More than anything in the world. I'm tired or pretending to be happy, hoping that one day I'll actually resemble the persona I put on. I want to give up. I want to quit. I know I'm probably better equipped than I was a year ago to deal with this, but I feel like it's not gonna be any easier. I guess just writing this helps though. I feel like I've finally pinpointed and confronted it. It's caught here in this blog for me to physically face directly. Well, if you actually read this all, thank you. It gives me hope, I guess. I apologize for such a sad post though. This one is more for myself anyway. I promise something more positive later.

For the lack of a better word.

I woke up for the first time in a long time this morning. I've realized that I haven't been myself for a while. I owe it to my friends to start being myself again. If it weren't for their incessant proverbial stabs at my sanity, I probably would not have woke up with this reality hangover. I have a great life. Nothing is lacking. I don't have to change who I am to get what I want. I have everything I need.

The falling out

"You buy things and you keep them clean. You take care of them. Keep them in a special pocket. Away from keys and coins. Away from other things that should be kept clean and taken care of as well. Then they get scratched. And scratched again. And again. And again. And again. Soon, you don't care about them anymore. You don't keep them in a special pocket. You throw them in the bag with everything else. They've surpassed their form and become nothing but function. People are like that. You meet them and keep them clean. In a special pocket. And then you start to scratch them. Not on purpose. Sometimes you just drop them by accident or forget which pocket they're in. But after the first scratch, it's all downhill from there. You see past their form. They become function. They are a purpose. Only their essence remains."

Fast lane

Sometimes the only thing keeping me from being depressed is the fact that I can't afford to be depressed anymore. And I don't know if that's a good thing, or a bad thing.

Numb.

I'm finally at that point. That numbness that takes over your thoughts, freezing the core of your mind. The ice that creeps over your heart, blocking out the emotion. The hypothermia sets in, your fingers turn blue as you become numb.

I feel like I'm just going through the motions again. Like watching some grotesque occurrence, some horrible accident that you just can't wrench your eyes away from. It's painful, yet strangely satisfying. Does that mean it is my fault? Do I like torturing myself so much that I put myself in the same situation every time? I reach out with my heart, only to have it slapped down like a petty piece of trash. I wish I could just lock it away, but I wont. I can't. I don't know why, but I can't. It's not me.

It's all happening again: same shit, different day. This depression is so jaded, that I'm used to it. This may not be surprising, but it is scary. How can one soul be so torn, so broken that it is used to sadness; so mournful are my thoughts that I would do anything to escape them. Sometimes I wish I could run away. Go on an adventure. Anywhere else, but this. This is not what I ever wanted. This kind of pain is unbearable.

I finally understand what it means to be numb.