Untitled

As my heart pounds with more urgency and the pain starts to simmer within me, I embark upon a journey down the memory lane. The past feels prickly not least because it shines the light on the unsavoury bits of my character. It makes me feel rejected which is,in all probability,the truth. Strangely, I’ve never felt as if I belonged anywhere. I long for such a feeling. The feeling of fraternity, the feeling of not being an outcast. But, I don’t think that’ll ever change. No matter what happens, I shall always be an outsider looking in, enviously,at times. It is a frustration that is slowly transforming into a rage. An all consuming fireball of rage which never gets put out. Instead, when my feelings aren’t providing it with some fuel to burn , it crackles mischievously,prickling me from time to time and reminding me about its existence. And when my feelings do oblige to it’s request, it drives me crazy just enough to push me onto the brink of self destruction. And I’ve embraced it. I’ve read the writing on the wall. That, I shall always be lonely and miserable. That,depression, isn’t a phase. It’s a feeling that’ll always exist in life. I tried my best to fight it. I tried my best to alter the writing on the wall. There were times when I was deluded enough to believe that things would improve. But they won’t. I now understand the perspective of the addicts. They don’t do it because they like it. They do it because it distracts them from the pain. This is also probably why people take to religion. Using an imaginary abstract concept to blind them is an option until you work out that the “imaginary” bit. Anyway,fuck this. I’m too exhausted to continue.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.