words don't come that easy.

By hardlysober

17.5K 2.1K 586

I've tried. but i've always failed to contain these thousand words in a few sentences, maybe im bad at expres... More

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1K 90 25
By hardlysober

28.10.2021
11:01

As I lay back on flat on railway track, my mind runs wild, chasing everything inconceivable. I slope down to valleys of dark thoughts. I have left my dreams behind, and I have grown up, but there is nothing miraculous about it. I am tired. I need rest, not sleep. I want death to pick me up in it's arms and take me away, riding under moon. Few years back, I drugged myself to sleep and lay here on this track. The idea was to gamble with my life, if I were to wake up alive by tomorrow, if no train crushed me into small portions of meat, I would do something about my life. But, as days passed by, I did nothing. I am behind my sales target, and I have an earning course to complete, and I have movies on my wishlist yet to watch, and I have words yet to be written, and I have still some cigarettes left to smoke, and I cut myself once in week. And I have a feeling to gulp down a dynamite, to be blown into pieces, cover ceilings with my pieces of flesh and blood. I want to be torn in a manner that nothing can ever stitch me back. And my ideas derailed and disbelieved. I was never good at making money, pushing my limits, I never painted world in pink shade, I have always been a downright pessimist, and I had no luck in love either. I was not flamboyant man, I had no charm so I have never had anybody to keep me warm, in these cold nights that just won't pass. I am fatal. I am downright dumb, and I sink in self-loathe once more tonight. I am freak, and then I am not that too. I am nobody. I am grotesque reflection in broken mirror of this era. I am locution, used often, but never understood. I am suicidal but I don't want to talk about it. Perhaps, the trick is to not think, not talk, to keep it inside, to hide it. Because an affection demanded, a help asked is of no use, it's not enough and it never will be. I am sinking warship, with nobody to witness this catastrophe. I am sick and there is no cure. I bleed, I am being carried away, I am sliced and chewed a little more everyday.

And, I remind myself, it's okay.

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