Dead Butterfly Story

Night time literally brings me ominous and vivid reflections on how my day was spent. At times, it relaxes me especially when the day went my way (I have a very simple definition of happiness really... to stop thinking. That’s it…)but in most moments, my days feel like crap.

It sucks when you wake up in the morning and you start feeling that familiar asphyxiating feeling… that feeling of being so darn damned and yet, you don’t know the reason why you feel such. (or perhaps you know why, but you just can’t go around the wall anymore.)

I am being sucked in by a void, where I remain static, unable to move and can’t fudging do anything ‘right’. I mean, that instance when you are so disoriented both in thoughts and actions and you just find yourself staring at blank space. It's fudge...

I am being weighed down by an invisible force – I am held captive by my own demons. I am trying to fight a losing battle and the path I want to go to dims and disappears right before my eyes.

It’s like a glass mirror, and your reflection starts cracking and all you see are parts of yourself amongst the broken glass shards.

You are slowly captivated by its brokenness as the tiny glass parts go deep in your flesh and all you feel is that piercing, warm feeling of being excised by a blade like mirror piece. You can't do anything but to let your blood flow out from the open wound.

Friends help but I can’t blend in with people. It’s not that I don’t want to, but it’s too tiresome to keep on explaining something that they don’t understand, and often times, you lower your standards to topics they know (like girls, boobs, sex and more boobs..)

I wouldn’t go that low just to have a ‘conversation’. I wouldn't sacrifice the things I believe in just to be accepted. And this is the very reason why I am like this, so there’s really no point in complaining because this is my choice in the first place.

Anyway, I am not complaining. I am rambling. Writing how I feel somewhat consoles me, but the ironic thing is that it seems to be not working now. Writing is a part of me – it is me.

I write because I am hoping that someday,

someone will feel my story.

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