Alone...

When my mind breaks down, it's almost comforting. I return to a place of pure solitude, no matter the surroundings. A fear of life itself sustained by constant self-loathing... but, it's quiet. The rythyms within sadness are slow and melodic. I never wanted to be so familiar with the beat.

But it's who I am. When I am rapid and spontaneous, I stick my neck into a place it isn't welcome. In doing so, I degrade my worth as a person and as a man. I do things unbecoming of me, and am always left out, feeling foolish; like an idiot. Like every action I've done is wrong. Every second that has come before the present is a mistake.

Is this the only way I can survive?

I have a suspicion that I am moving further and further from reality. It's a tingling feeling, like there's something I can't quite grasp...

It's visceral and unrelenting. A slow, methodical pulse that gradually grows in strength. Each piece of me will be blown apart, or they will survive only to hang languidly together... valor grows out of destruction, and then is murdered by the shadow of that plague.