decaying

I am rotting.

***

In a society that cradles emos and faux-depressives as a misunderstood subculture, I toe the line between what makes them them and what makes me me. I have long struggled with the concept of identity (fuck you Erikson) and have been unable to maintain a discernible persona. I float between what I would like to be amongst different circles of peers, only to find that nothing I act out is true to what I am. I am a confused chameleon.

I long to say, "No one understands me," or something equally dark and cantankerous, but the underlying truth is that even I don't understand myself. I strive to figure out how to socially interact and even feel like I hit it some days, only to find the next day I shrink away and my pursuits hit the edge of bathos. No man is an island except sometimes this man. The bell tolls for me.

The question emergent from the study of my favorite topic, meta-consciousness, is simple: "Who am I?"

I ask myself this every day.

hey

What's up God?

Listen, I know you and I haven't spoke since like last week, but you know when they talk about how blasphemous it is to turn away from you in times of stress? Well I'm pretty much at breaking point.

Sure, I know it's pretty selfish of me (and quite rude I might add) to doubt you and ask for you to show me a sign, but fuck it it's like you doled out miracles a dime a dozen back in the day. Man, I have been praying for you to show me something tangible for so fucking long. This isn't a threat, it ain't even a curse, but it damn well shows you I'm stumbling. I don't have it in me to be strong for you. Fuck, I don't even have it in me to give a shit anymore. Deontology? Too easy to cave in the favor of apathy. Such a loser thing to say, such an emo way to go, but the truth is I lack the drive and necessity to do anything else.

Let's face it. Things change, I know you know that. As much as I would like to deny it, my relationship with you has changed a lot last year. For the good? For the bad? I'm not sure. What I know is I was seeking to fill a void of emptiness within me and it's still there now, wide fucking open, gaping sucking wound. All I know is that there's nothing there, I've never been so damn miserable in my life, and I'm seriously starting to question everything I previously thought to be so valuable in my life.

Am I just thinking in utility? Am I being selfish and demanding everything go my way? Perhaps. I just don't think any human should live in such depression 9 days out of 10 - it just doesn't sit right with me in my gut. Am I ungrateful?

Yes.

Look, I apologize. You gave me life, you gave me soul, you gave me everything. I know the argument, I understand the debate. This is like a slap in the face right? Let's face it though, you're going to have children that hate you and children that love you. I guess I'm in the rebellious, angst-y litter. I'm ready to move the fuck out and stay gone.

In conclusion, show me a miracle:

Wide fucking open.