Back in the Day Take Two: 9/6/2008

I told you I was melodramatic:

The lights go out.  The cold sets in.  Another day gone.  Another night of restless sleep.  Oh the sweet despair that stabs at the depths of my stomach.  The sick memories of times past torment my mind again.  It is an uncontrollable reaction that I don’t even try to stop anymore.  Yet the agony is unbearable.  The bitter sadness has encroached itself into my being and has stubbornly refused to leave, not matter what I do.  I’ve tried it all.  Faking it worked until I realized I wasn’t really faking it.  I just wasn’t saying that I acknowledged it.  Giving way worked until I realized how much I was missing.  Life is too precious to let yourself waste away during the prime of it all.  Ignoring it worked until it built up to the point of a breakdown.  Now I’m just stagnating.  Waiting for something to happen.  At this point I don’t really care what it is, as long as it’s something.  I still remember the first time I laughed.  It sounded strange and horse.  I’m not sure if it would even count as laughter; it was so foreign.  I’d almost forgotten what it meant to be anything more than simply existing.  Yet here I am: being self-aware enough to count as more than a lump of flesh.  I’ve come far enough to write little black marks on a white sheet of paper and still make sense, even if only I understand.  Each day that passes makes the previous seem obsolete.  Happiness seems to have been centuries ago.  I’ve forgotten it.  The taste.  The feel.  The smell.  Even the simplicity of it all is lost.  Happiness.  Joy.  Love.  Hope.  They seem too great of a challenge to ever be realities again.  Of course, these conclusions are with reason aside.  But they exist even in the most reasonable of minds.  Reason and feeling survive contrary to one another.  It is the way life is.  A little melodramatic?  Oh but you forget that exaggeration is my first mate.  My soul mate.  And so here I go again to shut my self up in the minds of those greater than I am.  To lose myself in the words of passion and feeling that cannot have come from my sorry excuse of a pen.  To forget life and with it the disappointment that eats away at my very skin.  So if I disappear for a time, you know where to find me.  Not in this world.