captain’s log: 23/6/2015

who am i kidding, trying to be pretentious, i’m not in control of my life anymore, not really. this is not a captain’s log, it is me trying to understand complications of life with complex words that i let slide through my hands.

what a waste.

this isn’t the first time i’ve said this, but i feel like i’m drowning. not the kind that one flails their arms in desperation, yelling for a lifeguard, or someone, just anyone to save them; i’ve become too drained for that. it is feeling the water sloshing in your lungs and instincts scream to you to do something, anything but your muscles refuse to move, your heart wants to take a break and everything falls to a silence like in the movies. your senses dull and despite your feelings bubbling to the brim, the blood in your veins slows; your hands have fallen cold, no matter how much you clench them into fists. i am willing to succumb, to let it fall over me like a blanket of waves; but responsibilities and reality is mocking me that i would never reach the bottom, that i would be doomed to flail for the rest of my life, alone and cold and with no air to breathe.

i have known for a while that dwelling in sorrow is not the way to go, it is simply stalling time that could have been used to do better things. don’t think, just go ahead with the flow of life, let time push you forward and never halt, don’t look back for too long, haven’t you watched horror movies? but fear grips me. reality is i don’t want to face it. the burden the future holds in store is intimidating, looms over like a shadow that i cower from; it is much easier to question the way things work, because you think you’ll never find an answer, perhaps there never was.

i wish i could hook myself to a heartbeat monitor. that way i’ll ascertain that i’m alive, a being worth living, value determined by the robotic numbers. i don’t know what i’m feeling anymore, i wish science could tell me, i wish someone could make it okay. it’s all muddled up inside, maybe i’m just making it difficult for myself because i don’t want to move on, because what are footprints for anyway if you don’t need to trace back to your past? i hate it, i think i might hate myself but then that itself is a lie. if i really did, it is probably irredeemable. maybe i’m still hoping.

for now, i drown in words, because i can; because i have to, they’re my only friend, simple and honest in black and white.

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