Pulvis et Umbra Sumus

i don't think simply wanting to be left the fuck alone is asking for too much. i'm not even expecting anything from you anymore; i've long since reaized that holding you to responsibilities that should have had befallen on you is a moot point. all we want now is to not be dragged us into your messes but you just had to make bad decisions after bad decisions that lead to us and everyone you know in the line of fucking fire and i'm tired of this. i'm sick of you causing problems for us, you're not even here anymore and you are still disrupting everything and fucking with our lives. honestly, i don't even give a shit if you're dead in a ditch somewhere right the fuck now, my only concern is that you'll be leaving your mess for us to clean up. but maybe we'll get insurance from your untimely demise or maybe the bank will seize them. whatever. i don't care either way, just fuck off already

I'm so tired of struggling to keep myself afloat when every time I so much as get enough air into my lungs, you swim towards me only to push my head right back underwater.

And as I lie in bed and look through my window to the dark sky that's sprinkled with countless twinkling stars and one shining moon, my too-cold body welcome the darkness that wraps around it like a worn blanket—familiar and warm. Then I close my eyes and think feel, finally, home.

I’m not even trudging through the waters anymore. I’m not thrashing around so I could swim towards the shore. There are no lighthouses in sight that would guide my way. Instead, I’m just stuck floating in the middle of the ocean with no idea which way is north, south, east or west. I’m numb to the cold, my limbs too tired to move. I’m lost in the sea and I have no energy or fight left in me to figure out how to make for the shore. So here I am, trying (and failing) to keep my head above the water, wondering when will the inevitable happen. A wave big and strong enough hitting me so hard that I finally, finally drown.

And after all that’s been said and done, you’ve got to stand up, dust yourself off, raise your chin up, and walk again. You’ll get somewhere someday somehow. You will.

Under the cover of darkness, with but little light from the shining moon, I lie within the space where the shadows reside. In that short window of time right before I drift off, my deepest hopes and wildest dreams gather around and follow me to my slumber where they would run wild and would scatter away the moment I open my eyes to the rising sun.

My rage is a barrel of gunpowder, and your words are the match that lights a spark. When it catches fire, we will all blow up into pieces and nothing but dust and shadows will remain. And even those will scatter away with the wind, leaving only scorched ruins behind.