Returns: a collection of self

Asylum

I turn my head to a blade, one that has been used before, not in the way I attempted to though. This was a cutting edge for marking objects and carpentry. I see my self as an object, one of no good use, made in a way for good use, but ended up faulty. I feel like there was a use for me in this world, but I'm no longer needed. As factories are with workers, but replaced by technology. I feel as I am of no good use anymore. Other's might beg to differ, but never really put much thought into it. Sure, I might bring my end to the table, but what does it all matter in the end of things? Does it ever last? I'm pretty sure if it does, it dies off quickly, and everyone is ready to move on to the next big appeal. I've been disassociating lately, I'm starting to forget who I am. I'm wondering what life really is and the whole "purpose" of being someone who "makes it in this world". I broke promises, and that there breaks trust. Trust is a very hard thing to keep if it's disgraced and is used like toilet paper. Who am I? These days, I don't even want to know the answer to that simple-minded question. No one truly knows who they are, not until they're gone. Is it gonna take me going insane, locked in my bedroom, and screaming to the top of my lungs to truly understand what life really is? Is it gonna take burning my fingers to the tip to know what it's like to feel? How about fucking up my life and my future, losing the ones I love, and giving up. Will that show me what loss is? I'll tell you the answer now. It won't. There is no gain nor loss in anything anymore. You either live or die. Those are your only options. And we can either choose to live life and deal with pain, or die, which each and every one of us will do one day. I reek with panic, fear, and anxiety. A true stench it is. But this is my life, I'll live whether it becomes worse or not. Put my happy face on and live another day. I look at this blade and I think. If I did mark myself, these marks heal, so there's no point in the end. I put my blade down and live another day. In this insane asylum that we live in called Earth, and only hope that I break free soon.