confession 9

I'm tired of myself acting this way.

Each and every single moment of the day is filled with instant satisfactory stimuli.

I wake up and masturbate, then light a ciggerate, then coffee, netflix, maggi, chilled pepsi - whatever to take the edge off. All of this - while music plays in my ears and self pity in the subconscious, to fill in the gaps and so that my attention doesn't take an emergency exit.

An exit to see - to see that I'm going no where in life because these things don't have the ability to take anyone anywhere. Except of course - to more and more of them.

It feels like an eternity since I've genuinely felt anything genuine. The memory of being moved by a simple melody or the mere touch of a human feels more distant than ever today.

The rejoice and pride over battle scars after breaking my body down during a runners high yearn to enter my life again; for I've forgotten how to yearn myself.

Misunderstood and rejected is the most overwhelming feeling I drown in while I take on this mask to have a little chat with another human.

I'm physically tired of this limbo.

incepted

I'm quitting alcohol and reefer cold turkey - but only for a while.

This sudden decision was a product of an epiphany during today morning's shower and possibly the goosebumps the song "Porcelain' by Moby gave to me. While listening to the song, besides the lyrics, the only thought clouding my mind was that an idea planted deep enough into the mind, is much more potent than the hardest drug ~ something I heard in inception and also something that stuck to me.

Depersonalisation was an idea to me at some point. Today, I stand far away from that point. 

When I'm high - responsive stimuli tinkering with my nervous system floating around in the room manifests itself to become unmistakably real. The carpet and the drapes come to life while I delve into the lines between Kendrick's poetry. Tears burst outward like an open dam and I'm unable to stop my thoughts from continuously imploding on my conscious. The weight of the world pushes me to express my

thoughts as art but my hold back becomes my inability to paint. If this isn't real then what is?

This being precisely my point - depersonalization and detachment are concepts that I once knew but have now started to feel - when I'm sober of course.