Ch 5
Inescapable prison of psychological paralysis
As I re enter the cold world outside my mind can't help but drift off to a time not too long ago. A time much like now where my mind and body craved the idea of feeling something, don't get me wrong I've spent years trying to figure out how to shut my emotions off so that I could finally quit hurting, but now I can't feel a damn thing and I've never felt more confined. My hand instinctively goes to brush my wrist, a habit I developed in the past when I felt embarrassed of the cuts that littered my forearm. The scars that would forever be branded on my skin, eventually stopped multiplying because eventually it quit working. The pain in due time diminished and I was left with an inescapable prison of psychological paralysis. What even is the point of continuing on in this reality if you are continuously jumping from writhing in agony from the overwhelming sentiment that is feeling, to gasping for the air that we call love, happiness, worth. It's too much for one person to bear especially alone, so would it really be so unforgivable if I just checked out for a minute.
Ch 6
A Melody That Flirts With My Sweet Despondency
Words... so many fucking words stuck somewhere I can't reach. I feel them so vividly, my body understands them, knows every inch of them. Yet my mind still can't grasp how to communicate them to someone else. It's so frustrating to me, how bad I want to be able to express the quantity of the shit I'm going through and I can't. I want to scream, but some invisible force keeps my voice silent, some invisible void sucks the air from my lungs cutting me off from any relief that was within reach. It almost feels like when that hard irritable lump raises up in your throat when your trying your hardest not to break down in tears. Now that I really think of it I haven't been able to truly listen to music since I've numbed up. Those familiar swells and builds of a melody that flirts with my sweet despondency. I'm inhuman.
I.
Can't.
Feel.
So what even is the point of existence if my engineering goes outside of what it was originally programmed to do. Exactly; there is no point.
