... AFTER THE FALL ...

Where is rock bottom? I can't seem to find it on a map to navigate away from this horrible/chaotic place. It's bad enough having no control, but having no patience til the control returns, is a different can of worms that I can't comprehend. And staring over, has never seemed like a bad thing. Fresh start anyone? I'll take one please. Well no thank you, I almost rather suffer in the state of overwhelming stress, than live long enough to mend all the broken bridges I've destroyed. As soon as the slimmest bit of a glimmer that possibly closely resembles hope begins to shine, the clouds that stalk me make their presence known, and rain on my overdue parade. Even the simplest things that used to take up a friction of time, are now stretched out over days and hours that I quickly lose track of. Somehow it seems that the only thing that I'm actually fighting against is I. When giving up has always been an option, how do you never use it? From no options, to no control. From everything going wrong, to nothing happening at all. From familiar all the way across the spectrum, landing agonizingly head first into foreign. When the only possible alternative is laughable at best, can't you then deem yourself insane? Yes patience is a virtue, and suicide is a death, now tell me something I don't know. Never at any one point has so much hatred/anger fueled such a cause that has such a positive outcome.

The problem is perception, the wrong perception that is. It's easy to focus on all the negatives when they are infinite, but nearly impossible to remember the positives when you can only count one. They need to invent weapons for the inner struggle. Cause I'm sick of losing this reoccurring private mêlée.  All that I'm capable of is these temporary solutions that seem to end up burying me deeper than from where I was previously struggling. My friend said it best, "They call me S-T-Rugglin."

Constantly having life stifle your ever chance to improve, gets old real fast. The will to continue the illusion of progression, is quickly decimated by the excessive strength that crushes your every movement. Once the flesh covering what's left of your life form is halted from retreating any further, where is the next move? Is it more honorable to surrender when you are outnumbered, or to fight on when there is no chance for victory? If the end is the same, does it really matter how/when you got there?  I'd rather feel my life slip from my hands, than have it taken away when I'm not ready.  The tape that was used to make repairs some time ago has become soiled with impurities that will forever stain me. As obvious as the ball and chain on the ankle of that cartoon character we all can so easily identify, so is cage he is kept in, far away from all the dreams he will never achieve.  Not asking for help doesn't make you stronger. Just more likely not to know when it's too late. Rejecting gifts that have been offered from the most genuine places hurts the ones who try and help.

Notice how they deem the ones who say what they truly believe insane. As the door of society meets the door jam, the last words of the one with the reverse jacket, sink in and change how you see everything.  I'm no one special; it just would be a pleasant change to keep my self intact long enough to understand how it should be. One day, some day, maybe, I will sever the ties that keep dragging me across the painful foundation that is the bottom.











Rather be dead than alive by your oppression.

Rather be dead than alive by your decide.

Rather be dead than alive by your traditions. -REFUSED