Full circle

I no longer have anymore words. I feel that they've been used up in my attempts to express the way things are. I suppose it's not really a pity, too much darkness in my soul. Give's people a bad image of me, so usually I end up pushing them away, while I am always alone; it makes my solitude more complete.

Do I enjoy my depression...I never really thought about it before, havent been asked directly. Perhaps if I put enough thought into it, I could come up with some sort of answer. My friend tried to explain it to me. That maybe I fear it, like a man who has spent most of his life in prison and get's a parole.

The fear of the unknown.

I hurt beyond any measure of the word, that's something that I know without any doubts. I feel ripped open and poured out. I've been focusing on my daily life mainly, perhaps in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. Sleep brings some comfort, I never remember my dreams; If I dream at all even.

Focus on work, to get throught the day without losing my grip on reality. I sit here at my computer, trying to find something to write about. Some wisdom I can impart from age or experience. Inspirational and beautiful poetry I can write; beliefs or views.

Yet nothing comes, either I've killed my muse; or else lost myself completely.

I just feel the weight.

Perhaps I should cut off everything.

My friends.

Those whom I love.

Perhaps I should pack up, and leave. Wander the world, and find something.

Escape.