charactercanvasforlonelydays

[charactercanvasforlonelydays]

A Cycle's Start

Not having someone to be yourself with physically hits hard. I start to feel like I don't exist, like an empty shell. The longer you go, the stronger you get, the less it hits, the more it hurts- like a secret hidden in the catacombs of your brain. Today it pounds hard inside my skull, even harder than it did last. I've ignored it for too long, spoiling myself in vices, guzzling and overdosing, drowing in the deep end, now I've swam to shallow shores of my reality and it's silent and desolate. It's louder than the other side. On thats side I burn all the sticks that I have and find. The fire I started to feel no more. Over here it's icy cold, but now I don't want to be warm, atleast because I can't feel it anymore. I no longer want to feel at home, I no longer want to buy, to spend, to cook, to eat, to paint, to draw, to sculpt, to speak, to scream, I don't want to, and even if I do it's still not real, like smoke you can't see or smell and noise you can't hear or feel. I can and will shiver more, and colder and longer here and it hurts. I live and will live after. I will swim back to other side to burn and make noise to drown out the sound of those thoughts and feelings pouding at their doors, until again I no longer exist. Beating to the sound of my own drums until they have dissipated. In this text though, I have found an outlet. I may write to no one, or no one will read, but atleast for me I know that this is my reality. Sharing it with you, when I'm all alone, whether you exist or don't whether this is read or not, I can finally hear myself and I know that I am not just a shell. If a tree falls in an empty forrest, yes it does still make noise- here yes, is the noise that I make.