Recollection

There exists an underlying misconception that many men never fear death for they have lived without regrets and nothing but contentment for the sorry existence they inhibit in this orb of blue in green; while surrounded by the vast expanse of the cosmos that many will never explore and billions will never feel. 

There is no greater agony than to experience a festering yet fading memory; a memory one tried their best to forget but was bested by a glimmer of this bygone past that felt like a window to a world which no longer exists and a mirror to the horrors of one's mistakes. A memory forgotten which resurfaced to haunt one's tormented psyche which no amount of alcohol can ever erase this mistake.

Each night when the evening breeze sweeps deep within the halls of his home, when the crickets and cicadas chirp, and when the roads are desolate and few walk the streets; it would occur again and again like an Ouroborus eating its own tail and giving birth to this never ending cycle of pain and misery. The disturbing scene forever etched in the walls of his mind for this familiar sense of insecurity has secured his resolve to do absolutely nothing but simply weather this hailstorm of emotions that crash on the gates of his chest.

Each passing second, the scent of the midnight dew mixed with the sounds of distant engines and blaring sirens was enough for him to return back to the place where it all began. To a beginning which started the end; the final journey before his eventual return to limbo. The place where civilization and nature met as a single vacant park bench underneath a flickering lamp post served as a testament to his synchronous idiocracy. 

It was one of these nights where he would just lay awake at night while the echoes of the past return as whispers of a woman no longer around would mess with his mind and poison the remaining sanity he possessed.

Josh tossed and turned in his bed as the room that was previously untouched became messy and ruined in a matter of days, four to be precise; the image of Lyanna mixing in with the past, her voice telling the wrong things, her image bastardized by his fluctuating state of discombobulation and depression.

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I remember it so dearly but at the same time I don't. When the clock struck midnight the skies all lit up with fireworks; the stunning displays of yellows and reds with greens and then some blues. The full moon going to wane makes great company as the stars of the sky were being blocked by the clouds and smoke. Then again maybe it's my blindness that seemed to hinder the possibility of me being able to sight such beautiful creations of atoms in the greater game of the unknown cosmos.

At that opportune moment, there were many things I wanted to do, first and foremost was to scream as my throat could bear. To vent out this building anger towards an uncaring deity that many believe in and to make them change the course of my fate. 

I wanted to cry and wallow in despair as one by one the emotions I have hid away from the world slowly began to seep into the crevices of my body; like an uncontainable cancer it spread all over the temple I call my own and degraded the very foundations of what I called my soul.

I wanted to rage. Shattering what little remains of my sanity as the world around me envelops in flames, injustices done to the common man and here I am being selfish, arrogant, and ignorant of all the things that should be defining who I should be; now I crumble into nothing but a pile of broken promises and tarnished dreams.

Yet like the coward that I am, I stayed silent.

I am a mess. A detestable yet determined deviant that strives to make himself seen but also shies away from the spotlight of reality. The endless tool to become somebody has left me broken, charred, and maimed in different aspects of my life. All in all I should be dead, yet despite it all I persist in a state of both alive and dead. It's as if you're nothing but a sentience being left to float the endless expanse of limbo as you rationalize this afterlife that supposedly never exists. 

If the afterlife does exist, I wish it wasn't the bright and pearly white gates of heaven that many aspire it to be. I'd prefer it to be a little more like normal where the world is exactly the same as it once was before my death and relive memories both real and fake as my life finally ends so others may finally experience the hell that's reality.

Sometimes I have a question in my head; What about those that dare to gleam into a realm where a life should never exist. Would they gaze into the abyss and blink just to finally lose all their sanity in this ridiculous show of satirical and unsatisfactory agony; or would they persist with this feeling of false happiness.

It's not happiness per se, but contentment. I believe that happiness is nothing but a momentarily respite from the cruel torture of life that makes you forget the reasons of why you want to kill yourself. Those that are happy deem themselves to be ignorant of the real issues pertaining to their world that they operate in.

To be happy means to be stupid and ignorant of the problems of many and in being happy means you are being selfish. As you'd rather ensure the happiness of oneself before others and in the event you do make another person happy it's because you're simply planting a hook on them as a favor or a bargaining tool.

Happiness is fake, it's a lie. It's a lie you tell yourself in order to feel less shitty than you actually feel because the problems life throws at you is more like a hurricane than the evening's drizzle. I was happy once; but I grew smarter, more humane, more active in the society I live in thanks to the people around me.

I'm not saying I don't want to be happy, because who the fuck wants to not be happy. That's a fucking hyperbole that many fall into but then again I understand the pain of being happy and suddenly for it to be swept under the rug instantaneously the moment you realize you actually enjoy being happy. Happiness is a drug that many actively seek but few really see the ugly truth and yet I too want to be happy. I want to be okay. I want to believe I'm happy and okay or else I'll resort to being inanimate while being forever trapped in this house I call my home.

Why can't I just be dumb, stupid, and ignorant again. I was happy. I was living my life. I was not stressing over money or fame or validation or rest or love or life or anything. Anything and everything from somewhere all led up with me in nowhere. Unable to find where I should place myself in the grand game of the infinite cosmos and now look at me.

Depressed and burnt out like a fucking house that was left unattended with a child that plays matchboxes on Christmas Eve. Even with the world burning around me, I can never seem to feel its warmth.

My mind is bent, warped, and unfortunately still sharp yet dull at the same time. Momentarily my entire soul is exhausted from all the work I have poured into attempting to escape a hell I have suddenly found myself into. A world where everything is a crude game of lies and deceit, who can promise better, act better, lie better, win.

I'm a great liar, a decent actor, and I'm a keeper of terrible promises. However, all of these combined makes me one hell of a fucking lunatic. I have become an amalgamation of the problems of all the people around me and for some reason I cannot change that way even if I forced myself to.

I want to forget her, but I don't want to at the same time. Everything is a battle now, her name alone makes me feel happy and sad at the same time. I didn't just lose a friend, I lost a piece of my soul that I truly care about.

I know you'll never hear this but I wish you could've just said no. Because you'll never realize how much I truly love you. There's probably no woman other than my mother and grandmother that can compare to the patience I've saved, to the love I poured, and the energy I've spent.

But in the end, my fantasies will never come true and you'll never end up with someone as fucked up as me even if you tried. 

That I know of too.

Fuck. 

It's 11 and I'm still pondering like a schizo.