Enclosed I am in this seemingly narrow space.
No way to move
No way out
Just this dark dark place closing upon me
I'd probably still try to delude myself if it weren't for the reasons that I still had a life to live.
And that I'm not some fictional character where time did not seem to matter.
Its funny how some stories could leave you with this feeling of anxiety yet another yearning at the same time.
Could you still hate this existence?
Maybe for some others, everything seemed easy.
They'd just fall into their little routines everyday, knowing that they still had some sort of purpose here.
But where do I fall into this little routines that made up the lives of so many people that breathed here.
Here I'm trying to escape into my own world where everything would go as they should be.
I'd shun the thought of this numbness that was soon taking over me.
The part where there was nothing else I could do to ease this burning inside.
These little mundane things that I do, trying in vain to distract myself from these thoughts that now haunt me.
Sometimes its just so hard to keep it away, so I could still live whats left of this life.
Things had now became so complicated.
How could the heart be mangled so often, and yet still beat like any other would?
I don't know.
Maybe because it was that fact that reality would still be there no matter how hard you try to escape it.
Wouldn't it be best if I could just stay as a part of a page, embedded in the story forever.
I guess not.
I'm trying to lift this weight that had become my burden.
Or I could only look forward to each night, painfully stepping through each hour of the day, and finally close my eyes to dream.
Though the darkness did not hold much surprise for me because by day, my life had already seemed bleak and the darkness at night made no difference.
"So what you're saying is I'm your brand of heroin?"
"Yes, you're exactly my brand of heroin"