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I stated eairler that my life was spiraling into hell, but now I realize ... that happened years ago. Now I just am stuck here helplessly trying to get out ... one way or another. I have three options. Option one, I can keep trying to resist, sliding slowly down the hole, for there is nothing to grasp and my strength to continue bracing myself against the walls is failing. Option two, I give in and start my plumet to the dark abyss towards the bottom where I will die. Option three is the hardest to carry out. Option three is to try to find a crack, a ledge, even a seem in the hole's walls and try to grab onto it and work my way back to the level ground, back to the top, back to a normal life, in which I am nïave enough to believe there is love and everything ends in a happily ever after, as if we were in some sick, twisted fairytale that implants illusions upon the young generation's mind, our future's mind, jepordizing their overall security. It is like an
overprotective parent. It shelters us to a point of cluelessness and makes us blind when we need to see. It ends up killing us because we were so oblivious we expected total bliss and a joyful, painless life. In truth the slap in the face from reality when you enter the real, harsh world may be hard enough to kill us itself, but instead blinds us while we are killed and holds us down while we flail and thrash desperatly trying to escape and live. Sometimes I feel like a machine. Like a machine that has been outside in the rain, forgotten, as if I am meant to die a sad, lonely life. Sitting in the rain until I finally rust away. And even when someone tries to remove me from the rain, I push away with stupid excuses, because I am frightened to hurt anymore, but being scared comes with a price too. I will never truely be happy if I am too afraid to try. Too afraid to fail. Too damn afraid to touch the fire again cause I know it will just burn the
s**t out of my poor, battered heart. Too afraid.
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