I’ve gone through too much, I have thought too much, I still need help and I am ashamed for it. I could throw a dart at the options to choose from as for reasons why and how I got to be this low and any of them work, but I am completely isolated from help nor do I need any. I simply don’t care. I’ve made up a story as for how I got here because it’s the only thing that makes sense, but the truth is that isn’t what happened, and i never really will know what did. it doesn’t really matter what happened, sometimes I wish that it did
When I look back, the life I used to cherish I can only see through critical eyes, photographed on a broken camera. The things I’ve done are narrated by demeaning comments. I used to fight against this perspective; what is there to do when you can’t
I don’t know what I want to do next. I don’t know if I ever really have. When i’m very cold and I’m in the mindset that things will never get better, I have a vision I’m currently holding onto. It’s twenty five years from now. I’m at a lake house with my friends from the other place. we’re listening to the chicks, we’re all a lot closer at this point, the suns beating down, I’m fully thawed. I’m sipping on a can of cider with a visually appealing label. I’m close to retirement, I have no regrets in my life, just nice memories, but it still hits good when i sing along to the words “standing right here until you see how you broke me”
horrible song but its an absolutely hilarious and bold thing for them to just throw out there at like 60 years old