vault-713:

Wake up.

Look me in the eyes again.

I need to feel your hands, upon my face.

Words can relay nice. They can cut you open.

And then the silence surrounds you, and haunts you. 

I think i might have inhaled you.

I can feel you behind my eyes.

You’ve gotten into my bloodstream.

I can feel you flowing in me. 

How does it feel to know you never have to be alone?

Give us this day our daily dose of faux affliction, Forgive our sins, Forged at the pulpit with forked tongues selling faux sermons.

Today i felt happy..

Truly Happy. No fabricated happiness in any way. I feel as if my life is going somewhere finally. I have finally ridden myself of an unnecessary human being that has done nothing but add stress and unhappiness to my recent life. Its amazing how friends can just make all unhappiness you feel go away with just their company. I have smoked an inhuman amount of cigarettes and I plan to drink myself into oblivion tomorrow but for now I am content with being a happy soul.

Items burned. Memories burned. 

Loneliness.

While alone at a small coffee shop in my home town I sat and wondered how at any one time, even surrounded by thousands of people, a person can feel lonely. Even when surrounded by family and friends, if you are going through a certain amount of emotions in your mind, emotions where your mental capacity will not allow you to see past your situation, a person will feel the most lonely they have ever felt. Emotional loneliness can be so much more severe than psychical loneliness. 
As a recently discovered sufferer of psychosis, I, though surrounded by hundreds, if not, thousands of people everyday, am one of the select few who feel emotionally alone. Of course it may not help ones self when you go to places, shut your phone off and, although horrible, enjoy and embrace your situation. As strange as it may sound to people like you, although a traumatic and lonely disorder at times, psychosis can sometimes be beautiful. Where do you think people with huge imaginations such as J R R Tolkien or, my personal favourite, Edgar Allan Poe get these frighteningly vivid images of characters they write about? Writing is like an art and I, among many others, find it physically impossible to write about the description of a person unless they are either standing directly in front of me, or I have a great vivid image of them. The things people like us see are sometimes beautiful, and as a person who see’s the world as one big threat, it sometimes helps to try and, although hard, see the beauty in a bad situations. It is a whole new experience.

So maybe people like myself are not so alone? Maybe our dreams are a mild form of psychosis? Maybe people like myself are not as insane as we seem? Maybe we are just dreamers with our eyes open?.

So should we feel so alone?

To Love..

To say I Love You one has to be in love. Maybe it is just my mind being young and naive but I have never been able to comprehend how at any one time a person can justify saying I Love You if they do not mean it.  There is no limit to love and no limit to the amount of times an individual can love, but how people use the term so loosely and not feel an inch of bad feeling for it I cannot in my human brain figure out. 

Sometimes I wish phrases like I Love You never existed. They weaken us. They shake us to our very core. They destroy us. They confuse us. No other person should ever have the power to say those beautiful three words and take control of someone’s life the way they do. Its too painful. 

Someone has my heart on these three strings, and I hate him for it. Hate him with all the love I have in me. I hate that he can control my heart like a puppet and I have no control.

I am helpless.

I am weak.

I am confused.

I am destroyed.

I am in Love.

I sat..

I sat.

I thought.

I wondered.

I fought.

I fought my fear of all things in darkness. Why I could never quite grasp. While the sky in its Inky twilight would make everything seem much more sinister, I knew it was all the same in brisk daylight. My painted pattern of sleep has been washed away by the fear of the spilling black dark liquid like substance. The slab of concrete that separates reality from dream had been broken with the biggest demolition ball of insanity. I was undoubtedly void of any type of sanity. What normal human being would not sleep past midnight? What normal human being would contemplate life and all over existence past midnight and believe it?. 

I am in two minds.

What is sanity? Can I as an inexperienced human being derive insanity or for that fact sanity? Have I even been sane? Maybe as a helpless child? Maybe then I was sane. Not now. I feel not the exquisite content feeling of being a normal human being. Am I alone? While awake at 3am one is most certainly alone. All human life lie in their most vulnerable states while we, the select wake few, are left to fight off all demons of loneliness and monsters of our own minds. 

Some nights I fight more than others but tonight I will do nothing.

I will sit.

I will think.

I will wonder.

I will fight. 

Fight all feelings that try to make me more insane than I already am.