Lower

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Whenever I’m alone, these thoughts creep in. They find life like the beginning of a calm river. Until it cascades into the deep pools of my consciousness. Down to the depths of my repetitive processes. I’m becoming self-aware again. Detaching from all distractions I’ve put in place. I see it like an oncoming train. But lack any sort of power to stop the inevitable crash. To this extent, I stand frozen in this plane of existence. Is it possible to truly suppress depression? All I’ve been searching for is decompression. To let out some of this pressure from my head. Memories that were carved into a slideshow. Showing me the awful tragedies a thousand times. This tape I can’t ever pause or rewind. An endless revolution of heartache. What’s in front of me? The unknown. The fear of never being able to see past the glass. Beyond the mirror that imitates life but offers us death. Reflecting what I know to be true. But maybe it’s refracting my moral compass. Scattering little slices of light in opposite directions. Is this what it’s like to feel pulled apart? Ripping away seam by seam. Or is this more like unraveling? Taking something that is thought to be whole, grabbing hold of its loose ends, and spinning it into disarray. So too is my heart scattered. I reside in the space that completes each and every disconnection. Those childhood memories of misdirection. And it’s in my confession that I find the truth. To profess that I am but a slave to validation. One that I can’t seem to fulfill. No matter the amount of accomplishments. Stacked up against what I think is best. Is this it? Am I really just a mess? Something must be amiss. Because I’ve tried to put my best foot forward. Even if it’s into a pit of snakes. Even if a misstep becomes a mistake. Even the ones I can’t shake. Lying, trembling on the floor. And yet I’m grasping for more. If hell truly exists, it’s in this place. Those dark pockets in our soul we happily fall into. Where we say ‘thank you’ and continue on our way down. I’ve died this death a thousand times. What’s a thousand more?

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