dark imaginings

there's nothing happening in my life. as the title suggests, you've been warned, endure the boredom of my existence!

i admit, its al my fault. how could anything happen in my life when i don't do anything. but i've tired of doing something that eventually leads nowhere. i've tired of offending people by mistake and being racked by my conscience every godforsaken minute i'm awake. i'd rather do nothing than do something again that i would regret forever. i'm tired of life. i'm tired of me! but that's the story of my life...

its okey, be angry with me. join the club! i doubt you hate me as much as i hate myself. just tell me when its over, i just want my friend back.

...

i feel so damn frustrated. its high time i take control of my life instead of just watching it slip away from my grasp or wating for it to end. i feel as if i just go with the flow and react when needed. i hate it. i expect more from myself because i feel as if everyone else around expect more from me too. i feel as if some people see me as something more than i am. 'why the heck should i care?' you ask, becase i do! because i hate letting people down; because somehow, how other people see me is my only source of self-esteem. how they see me might make me think more of me. i hate myself too much.

shit.

its early, at least for me. around this time, i'm still usually asleep or locked in my room at home. but home suffocates me, no matter how free or how much no one really cares what i do with my life there, it suffocates me. there are days even i just can't help myself. i can't refrain from remembering. i can't run away from memories. i can't, even now, rise above it. there are times, alone in my room haunted by memories, wallowing in gloom and depression, i wonder why i am still alive. i've wanted to kill myself countless of times. but i'm afraid, afraid i might actually take me seriously...

i'm tired of silence. i want to shout out my life. i want to just bawl out and cry for the sorry state of my existence. i wish i could... i can't! i'm tired of not talking about it. as if talking would wash it all away... but what's the use of reliving the peak of tis hellish existence, why do i need to torture myself? it would remain. it wouldn't change anything. i can't escape from myself.

but the past is the past. no matter how disgusting or stupid or damned, its over. as someone i admire said, 'you choose how traumas affect you'. do i choose to be forever fixated on this stupidity, or do i trudge on and and hopefully do something useful with what else is left of my life? rise above the troubled seas or just drown myself with shadows of what was?

but how do you keep yourself from remembering, how do you keep it ot of your mind when everthing stares at your face every single day and every waking moment?

death, where are you? please, let this end...

'...do not distress yourself with dark imaginings, many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.'
- desiderata