Madness. Madness, all.

I don’t fit in anywhere.  I’ve no connections, no history, no group, no tribe.  I’m alone and I hate it and I love it.  I am an odd duck no matter where I go or what I do or who I am.  Fuck the world…

On edge…  teetering on the cusp of breakdown…  I’ll never be rid of the darkness and madness…  my brain whispers at me, its constant buzzing drone is forever with me.  I can never be rid of it.  It will never leave me.

I know why folks attempt suicide.  To get people to finally pay some fucking attention.  Depression and anxiety is so passé.  No one hears.  Then, you finally attempt it, it’s “Oh, I see now, he is depressed.”  Ya, no shit mother-fuckers… People pay attention when there is blood streaming from the cuts on your arms.  Suddenly, it’s real.

My mind doesn’t work.  It’s all scattered and sporadic.  I have such a hard time with the details of things.  It keeps going to ultimate things, then getting lost, it flounders.  Too many voices, too many swirls, too many eddies and currents and flaccid fluctuations.  I cannot keep anything still.  It’s all fucking broken and I cannot escape from it.  Madness, all.  I’m lost, lost in the fog.  I am imprisoned by my mind…

Madness and misery.  Nothing makes sense.  Questions, All are Questions.  No one understands.  No one trusts me.  No one tries.  I am alone in the fog.  Alone in the dark.  Alone in the confusion and in the chaos.  It’s all broken and shattered.  Cracked.  Dust.  Constant reboots.  Perpetual confusion.  There is no constancy or consistency…

I crave silence of mind.  Just a modicum of peace…  It’s all a never-ending storm.  Until it’s not.  When it is again…

I am my enemy, and my enemy is me.

 

(featured image source)

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