268 days.
A restless spirit festers inside me. The city now a cold skeleton that I scrape alongside as I make my way through days, nights spent in hollow bones awaiting subway trains, carry me back to a cold room I call home, a sandwich and streaming sitcoms alone.
My love has died, passion just decay, joy is rot. All that is ugly and able to maintain a semblance of smiles despite pain, loneliness equals happiness finally. Everything I've fled from, seeking solace in pleasant company I knew to be more than it was, for a respite from the void inside. All lies.
The greatest trick of the fool is that the easiest and first falsehood told lies unspoken in his own heart. Whether I am this child born of broken darkness or a beast of beauty and light is of no consequence. I'll always know myself to be true in playing a role.
Every shaky hand, wobbly leg, chest caught mid-breath, anxiety ridden moment is the product of denying real life. I am my father's son, fractured and cracked, slapped together in a drunken stupor. I was raised to be alone and blamed for other's faults.
My mother loved me, as best she could beside that bastard, though I often wished they cut me from her womb so they could be free, forced to face themselves without a receptacle for failures.
Mate with females, fear the males. At least when girls hurt me it made sense rather than having to fight for what I felt right. Patted on my head like a good puppy when unconditional sex sorted them out, manipulated and beaten when necessary.
Inside is a rage that wants to see the world burn. Sorry I'm not pleasant and happy skipping but I tried my whole life to combat this poison in me. I'm tired. I don't care about how you see me anymore. I can't be clenched tight every night. I don't want anything to do with you, all who I know, not anymore.
I only really like myself, but at least it's a start. Spent so much of me trying to help you. It was addicting, distracting, retracting from personal problems by listening to others ramble oblivious around finer points of their dysfunction.
I feel better already. Purged. I hate you. That's fine. Some of you hate me. Even better. All is well in the hole that I call my body. I don't owe anyone anything. Consider your debts paid.
I'm leaving you all behind to burn.
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