How did I turn out to be like that? Like this … I don’t know me anymore, I’m looking at the mirror and I see my demon staring back at me.
I lost my feelings, so I began to borrow some from others. I became addicted, I even started to appreciate fear experiences. I have literally felt everything and there is nothing much left to steal.
I tried to escape but now I have to live with it. I ripped people’s feelings out and now they have nothing inside, just like me. They became monsters too but I haven’t left them with much to feed on. Now what? I need to feel human again, even if that means that I have to do inhuman things.
I didn’t choose to be me but I can stop being me, would you let me see life through your eyes? To feel what you felt … Anger, fear, sorrow, love and all? Leave me but don’t leave me in hunger! If you were me, what would you choose? Starvation or salivation?
I got used to the darkness and I have made friends with my demons. I accepted the monsters who are inside of me instead of fighting them. Yes, I feel good about giving up. The light now hurts my eyes and I am too busy curing my headaches to dull the pain. Yet, I want to feel something, even if it is anger and loathing …
I’m dead rotting down here with false expectations and hope that is forever lost. I have lost the will to live and to be better. My fears blossom inside of me like flowers and I think they are beautiful. My kind sadness became my inspiration, I’m lucky that he visits me from time to time. I begun to appreciate my nightmares, for they give me better stories. My days though … They are all the same; pale, old, dusty and people are the wind.
My mind is filled with traps, dungeons and old castles with secret rooms and cold prisons. My thoughts are easily disturbed like the surface of the water, therefore I appreciate the screaming silence. I don’t want to be saved for there is nothing to be saved. I am the ruins; it is all black, burnt down, broken and abandoned. When you look in my eyes, you’ll see nothing for there is nothing inside, nothing good.
I’d rather stick needles in my heart than to feel neglect or attention. Poison runs in my veins instead of blood and apple chunks are cutting through my throat, I shall not speak but I shall release it from its leash to let it feed and grow from time to time. Maybe I have lost my self for good but I am too numb to care. Let it be, what is the worst thing that can happen?