Everyone's Out To Get Me

Everyone's Out To Get Me

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing1h 2m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Feb 15, 2016
{INCOMPLETE} (A/N I AM NOT COPYING @souleaterstories BECAUSE I AM HER, MY EMAIL GOT DELETED SO I CANT LOG IN. TRIGGER WARNING THROUGH OUT THE STORY ALSO SOME MATURE CONTENT! THERE IS ALSO SWEARING/ADULT LANGUAGE) I, Benjamin Godin, am flight. I am fear. I am anxiety, terror, panic. Feel the fucking pain and anguish pouring over me Am I insane or am I drowning in the agony I once was fine it's not alright it's getting hard to think Am I insane or am I drowning in the agony Am I alive or just breathing Cast like a stone out to sea I'm sinking Buried my lies and my secrets Down where the world never sees My demons And I swear it never had to end Like this If I could just pretend I'm not those things that you resent My friends Just leave me here for dead Cause I'm left with nothing But self destruction Stare down the cliff to my decent Into the deep end Am I distraught in deceiving Sick thoughts that hang over me With meaning Feel the fucking pain and anguish pouring over me Am I insane or am I drowning in the agony I once was fine it's not alright it's getting hard to think Am I insane or am I drowning in the agony And I swear it never had to end Like this If I could just pretend I'm not those things that you resent My friends Just leave me here for dead Cause I'm left with nothing But self destruction Stare down the cliff to my decent Into the deep end The monsters under my bed won't seem to leave me alone They sleep inside of my head Deceive to leave but they won't And I swear it never had to end Like this If I could just pretend I'm not those things that you resent My friends Just leave me here for dead Cause I'm left with nothing But self destruction Stare down the cliff to my decent Into the deep end Into the deep end
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Sometimes, I feel like I was designed not to live - but just to survive. My brain doesn't crave joy, meaning, or legacy - it just tries to prevent crisis. It calculates food, money, safety. It panics. It runs. It hides. And somehow... it keeps missing life. I've spent years trying to understand why my mind behaves this way. Why it imagines catastrophes while standing still. Why it avoids the simplest task. Why it overthinks even brushing teeth, but can ride a cycle for 100 km in the rain without blinking. One day, when I was still, completely still... with no task to distract me... this strange feeling overtook me. The thought that maybe - just maybe - I am not supposed to design my own purpose. I looked up. And I said, silently: "God... if You made me this way... if You crafted this restless, impulsive, chaos-driven machine of a brain... then You must know where I fit. Use me. Don't let me rot in guilt and survival. Don't let me just float. You know this universe in ways I never can. You know every corner of it. So You must know the one place where this exact wiring of mine can become meaningful." This wasn't surrender from pain. It was surrender from trying to control something I've clearly never understood. I don't need peace. I don't need success. I need to be used. Fully. For something only this kind of life, this kind of mind, could contribute. If I am a tool, let me build something. If I am a flame, let me burn where light is needed. But don't keep me in the dark asking, "Why me?" Maybe I wasn't built to ask. I was built to be assigned.

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