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Musings From The Inner Corners

Posted May 02 2014 8:59am
I feel compelled to write.

I haven't slept well, after dropping The Zyprexa Demon and taking on another- anxiety like you wouldn't believe.

I am realizing now that I exist within more so a box than a cage alone, and this box is a compilation of the dim aspects of my past, and the desire for the holy grail of self love (only to settle for self care). More than anything, I want to be free, though this box feels entirely composed of stale cardboard rigidity. I want to feel again. The stereotypical response of: even if it means pain, is strictly irrelevant. It is not this pain that I fear. It is destruction.

I feel like I am smoking a cigarette right now, running the hamster wheel of life manic hiding behind the garage at 18. A wheel to run is simply a contorted cage with a workout.

I am tired, though weary-lack. I feel as if the life I want is a ribbon held too loosely, slipping timelessly and yet time static from my palm and I can only watch. It's a degrading process, but one I must endure.

I want to live.
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