Failure

     I am, in every way, a failure. I cannot hold myself together in any way, shape or fashion. Simple, everyday chores and tasks are overwhelming to the point of tears. There is no one to blame but myself. I turn to drugs to keep me sane, and the mental dependence only causes the slope I’m slipping down to become steeper. I’m falling so quickly I cannot seem to stop myself. I am even too scared to try. I am fragile when I need to be rough; I make myself stand firm when all I need is to fall. My life is an endless labyrinth, and every tunnel is a dead end. I am running through the underground passageways of the sewer of this world, and there is no end, there is no light.

     He is my every thing; I bestow my all to him. Everything I had that made me so strong, that made me so empowered, I gave to him. It made me soft; it gave me the ability to love him with all I had. I did. I invested too much, and now there is no way to repossess it. My soul is paying interest on my love, while my heart has been taken as collateral for misery. I know what ailment my heart needs, I know how to get everything back. There is no guarantee that my methods will prove effective, but there is only one hope. That is to withdraw. I have no hope but to not see his face, but to ignore his existence. It is both my savior and my dread. While so effortless it seems, he still haunts my mind. Every love song, every pretty picture, every beautiful landscape, every picture of love may as well be a picture of him. One cannot ignore their mind, and I am no exception. He has me, and it only adds to my inner destruction.

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