That one moment. Of dread. Of panic. Of misery. Of crashing.
It's the one moment where time slows down, yet you're speeding up.
It's a trance. It's a hole. It's a void. It's the never ending cycle.
It's the feeling that you're at fault. That you're the problem. That nothing ever ever EVER goes your way.
People don't seem to understand. Or care. Or listen. Or act.
I'm just another burden. "You can deal with it," they say. "You're perfectly fine!" "It's not that bad."
Surprise surprise, I'm not.
I'm crazy. I'm lost. I'm hopeless. I'm just another number.
I can't do what you want me to do. I can't be what you want me to be.
I'm a disappointment. A maniac. A weirdo. A loose end.
I try and scream and cry and fight but it's too much.
It's pulling me and dragging me. Down, down, down.
Eventually, I will give up. I will lose. I will fade away. I will be pushed past the edge.
And maybe, just maybe, I will be freed from my madness.
Do you remember?
Remember a time when we were happy?
A time where it was you and I?
Where we enjoyed each other's company?
Do you remember when I said I love you?
I remember those times like yesterday.
It was you, me, and the world.
Nothing was going to stop us.
We were so happy, not a care in the world.
How I miss those days...
That one night I'll never forget.
You were drunk, but not on my love.
You stole everything from me.
You stole my soul, my life, my innocence.
You stole my my heart, my body, my mind.
Here's my last message to you,
Don't abuse me, with words or actions.
Don't see me as your toy or your slave.
Don't push me to the brink of defeat.
Don't use me as your anger outlet.
And finally, don't underestimate me.
Every now and again, I would look back to the past.
Passed memories. Memories of my childhood.
A childhood where I could be free, and whatever I want to be.
It was simpler times back then.
No strict rules, no tedious tasks, just freedom, happiness, and learning how to be around others.
Enjoying their company, visible or invisible.
Frolicking around until we had to part our ways.
Now I'm in a world of suppression and stress.
Too much to do, too little time.
Anxiety ebbing and flowing like the tide, a constant stream of unknowns.
Every now and again, I would look back to the past.
Yearning for respite, relief, a moment of peace.
These feelings keep changing, day in, day out.
Will I ever get to see that child again?
It's never enough. I always want more.
It's uncontrollable. I am my urges. My urges control me.
Being enslaved and used as a pity vessel to get what I want.
The power I have. Oh, the power.
He loves it. He needs it. And when he craves it, he'll get it.
It's a force I can't resist. Resistance is futile.
Locking him up enrages him and feeds his anger.
Soon enough, he breaks away from his shackles.
He is unstoppable.
"My way or the highway."
He sees no pity. He knows no boundaries.
He will push you and me to breaking point.
Soon enough, he'll tire.
He's had his moment. Been the centre of attention.
He's recieved enough gratification to quash his thirst for power.
He takes a back seat, and quietly rests up, awaiting his next opportunity to return to power.
What is left is small. Broken. Powerless.
Time pauses, with a loop that repeats itself.
I can't bear it. It's hard.
It's soul straining, doing nothing until he returns.
And when will he return?
When the belly of the beast starts to rumble again.