Lost Inside

Not In Control

Not In Control

I'm sad. I can't put into words exactly what's making me sad, but-I am. That's pretty much the only solid thing I know. It's so dark yet I don't want to be burned with the light.

I don't know what to do. Believe me I try-I try not to fuck up but that's what I am. Who I am-a complete fuck up. Only time pushes me. I'm in love with time because I hold on to the fact that it doesn't stop moving forward. Ever.

Even if it all seems to be getting worse and worse you know- you have a needed reassurance that there is an end; whether it ends in your death or a new beginning- the agony ends! That-That is what keeps me grounded- I won't say sane because I sometimes believe I am not. Sane, I mean. Plenty of times I reconsider whether or not I'm fully human.

I think too much. That's a given; I over think every. Damn. Thing. but during that time I make absolutely sure my words are sealed. I wouldn't be able to speak my thoughts even if I tried anyway; it's like I'm thinking in a whole other language that I can some-what understand with my head but not verbally form in words. My rational conclusion to this was my vocabulary wasn't wide enough, although I knew that wasn't the right answer. It didn't fit.

When I'm thinking, there's many different people thinking for me, but passing through my consciousness. But there is also other consciouses listening and processes for me when I don't know it. I could be answering a question out loud to a person and two minutes later I'm having an attack over whether or not I had spoken to that person at all. It's scary.

They leave a foot print and leave me wondering where they went and what they had done with me; who they had talked to; what they had solved; what problems they had created for myself.

I can't handle it. I don't want them screwing with my senses and being, but I don't want them to leave. I'm scared to let go. I can't let go. They are apart of me, a sick, scared part of me.

They shake. They shake with anxiety and fear from their own thoughts and send it to my being. I don't know what they're panicking about! But since they're apart of me I feel every fucking ounce of their senses and understand them without knowing where the emotions came from. I don't know what I'm having an anxiety attack about, yet I know I should be having one.

They whisper in my head, "There's always that easy way out- jump in front of a train, find a rope and wrap it around your neck and hang, jump, and the easiest of them all: cut a little deeper."

They yell, "You could do anything you want! Absolutely ANYTHING! Let's go kill someone! Some people don't deserve to live any way? Let's go take shit just for the hell of it! Let's take as many drugs as your body can stand and have the trip of your life! Why worry? You know the end is always there so why the fuck not?!"

Sometimes I feel they hate me. They want me to suffer so I can push us closer off the edge. Somet- it just happened. I completely blanked out and fought desperately for control. It leaves me weak, weaker than I already am; physically and mentally. It's frustrating! I don't know what I just did! Who am I? Who do you want to be? Not me, yet not you or any of you either.

There's another problem, I can't have one fully take over or else there will be chaos. The safest one to be-around people-is the quiet one. The one who quietly thinks, quietly speaks, quietly fills to the tip until they are completely overwhelmed and then that's when things start to get unsafe.
That's a reason why one can't be totally in control or it will get over whelmed and suddenly jerk the control over to another. The other didn't have the time to prepare itself for sharing control to balance itself out and it unleashes it's whole terrible persona to either the people around them or the sad, broken body itself.

There's no escape. No one- NO ONE knows what comes after death. They tell me constantly, "It can't be any more miserable or confusing as living."

I stop and think about that. Big mistake.