Doctor, increase the dosage.


There’s a few things we should talk about. I didn’t want to tell you in front of all those people so we’ll come to this little room, away from everything. First off, your mask; take it off, it’s not worth baring anymore. You don’t need to fake it anymore. Let them see you, let them touch you, it won’t hurt anymore. It’s too obvious now, everybody can predict your next move. This is your 22nd birthday, sure feels great to know you stopped mentally and emotionally maturing at the age of 8 years old. They have medicine for that these days though; they have medicine for everything. Got a cold? Take a pill. Got a rash? Take a pill. Got a headache? Take a pill. Got a constant thought of wanting to blow your brains out? Take a pill. Let it run down smoothly and let your serotonin levels even out for 8 hours. Hopefully something doesn’t throw you out of whack. Doctor, increase the dosage. Those thoughts are creeping up again, and you know it’s going to ruin something, just try not to let anything get in the way this time. It delays the inevitable. So it’s come full circle and I’m sitting here talking to you (me) your exterior self evaluating every single thing your mind has conjured up.

the only time we feel is when we sleep.

i suppose you never know what you have until it's gone; what if you never had it to begin with? always out of reach and those around you cherishing it, cradling it in their arms. "it's" always been gone. you don't even know what to say when people ask you "where's yours?". where is it? some people will just never have this kind of thing. be it medical complications, diagnosis, apathy, or the lack of the ability to feel, its gone, always has been and always will be.so where to go now? isn't that life's purpose, to "have and to hold" and move on with your life? these are the kinds of things hallmark cards are made out of, write a half assed attempt at trying to congratulate them for getting what you've always wanted, what you always needed, what you never felt. there they go, out of your life, they'll be back at square one by the end of time, half of them always come back to visit you and sink back down...it's a long way down for them, but it's a long way up when you're anchored by the reality of it all. that four letter word that comes to mind every time someone gets that gut feeling in their stomach, emotions are high, staring into each others eyes and mutter those words to make your self feel better, or to put them at ease. they don't know what waking up in cold sweats is like when you're laying next a person that comforts you. sweat dripping down your back, it's a mind fuck. is it mental? is it physical? this is the kind of thing you think about every day, every night, mid conversation when you're staring blankly into the persons eyes and you can't help but want to get away from that conversation; why waste your time? why waste theirs? so when does it end? discomfort turns into numbness, sulking turns emotionless. there it is, always just out of reach, always fleeting. maybe it's time to go. those footsteps you heard turn into nothing should have been yours the last time around. nothing will change though, you'll keep your self busy, keep your self occupied, keep your self alive. just waiting around to die.