Echoflux

I

Moments when I feel like my soul is detached from my body and my existence feels disconnected and disrupted. Occasions like these may have originated from delusions; self made ideas that we have about ourselves. My deranged self might be  to feeling these classic emotion due to the fact that I see my dreams and intentions being disgusted by my own-self. My very own idea of life scorns me. Times like these where I regret being born and it is so very natural for us humans to feel so. Destruction gave birth to creativity and creativity gave birth to ideas. ideas gave birth to emotions and emotions like a fish in some stretched ocean keep little to no value when it comes to creation of new things. Gentlemen, I am at the age where the feeling that "no one understands me" has only provided me with failure on all the respective aspects I have tried to experience. Love, compassion and comfort are like a commodity for me now. I don't understand this pain. I am not able to relieve myself of it. All the people, everyone close to me are not able to comprehend what I feel. I am not able to comprehend why they want what they want from me. I used to sing the phrase that "no one understands me" . Now im at the stage where I have realised that "I don't understand anyone".

I am a downright ugly man, a feeble doofer. All my life I've been telling my fellow humans not to sympathise with suffering like they can control it. Do they even stand a chance? I act like I acquired my suffering but no, it acquired me. I have a strong grudge against myself, enough to make one kill themselves but that is surely an easy way out. what did I do? I dreamt. what was my fault? what did i DO? What DID I DO? WHAT DID I DO? I sit here in the corner of my room suffering from own expectations. I only dreamt of being happy but I have only lost. Why couldn't I just understand what was to be understood.

I grasped on to my bed sheets, going disquiet, gasping on top of my lungs. how did I feel? does that even matter?.
To be alive and kicking, to be able to suspire, to be able to feel the pain, to be able to feel it when I am loosing myself, to be able to conclude my thoughts; is that what life actually mean?
I wanted to cry but my eyes, no tears seemed to turn out as my internal self filled to the brim as of them. Is pain a delusion too?
I tried to pull myself up but fell back with a single thud and an ironic laughter became visible on my face, my eyes watering up as I drew a cigarette from my pocket and lit it up before a tear could flow through.
Cigarette, another creation that has always intrigued me. you burn it and it takes away some of ur pain and thoughts with it and turns to ash, gets burned, ignited and turned to embers oppressed by our sentiments.
my mournful laughter, downright gloom that floats in my stomach, my hideous self, my ill favoured presence, my unwanted soul, my monstrous sight, my deformed personality, my charmless identity.
I looked up at the canopy of my inferno of a room and sniffed in a huge chunk of hell air that was afloat in my habitat.
Gentlemen and ladies, I know nothing makes sense at this point for to make sense in what I am telling you, You will have to live the rest of my life with me for past is gone but I shall tell you everything from now on till the point Universe itself comes to help me to make things make sense