The last 4 months have been horrible. I’ve pushed away so many people, I’ve become the very concept of loneliness itself. There’s a pit of darkness that sinks its claws into every functioning nerve in my body, dragging it closer towards self-destruction, mixing suicidal thoughts and a pathetic attempt to cure my stonerism, in hopeful attempts to shrug off these lethargic episodes. It doesn’t help that I’m fighting constantly with cigarettes; every puff is filled with reminiscence and loathing, four year old memories of how it feels like to be kissed with love, not hash-laced breath.
I’ve worn every kind of emotion- guilt, wrath, longing, ambivalence, sometimes love, often helplessness- and each time a huge eraser flies through space and smashes into my rib cage, exploding and imploding, throwing religion around the corners of my mind, and all I feel is lost.
No one writes songs about emptiness, for there is nothing to write about. There is nothing, after all. Words with detached meaning, fading revelations, and a breeze that passes by too soon.
I feel nothing.
so i’ve come to terms with how i fail at this whole getting followers thing.