2016, Upwards.

   I found myself drowning in the essensisnce that was my very own actions. I knew there had to be a change. A change not only for my thought process, but my dedication and determination as well. The soul idea to do so continued to sprout within my mind, however I felt fell flat upon execution. I could be a much more healthy soul, one thriving. However it felt more or less the opposite. Despite the constant reassuring nature that seemed prevalent; Such news I would always take to heart, always acknowledge. Though the reality execution seemed to display different scenarios than that. An uncaring, unsupportive nature it felt. Though many times I'd find myself struggling with the negativety that seemingly infidelity spawned. Seemed like an eternal struggle within my own mind, the constant compulsion to question myself, and question far too many things. They told me the greater minds, above all think this way. Though it was once again a struggle to battle off any intention to welcome the ill-tempered negativety. This constantly returning haze, mass-like parasite would lust the constant mind process, the one that would always be thinking, believing, thriving in a way. I'd think a mass variety of topics commingly, even so much so to become obsessed momentarily with intriguing topics, at least through my eyes, though to it meaning nothing. Essentially always keeping the knowledge to myself, as others were never intrigued as I was. To have the mindset, with little social connections, social content in general toward it. It truly decimated the want for any attention paid in any way shape or form, as if any hopes to such would be failed through out, and constantly with every attempt. A euphoria was found, however, and it was all mine. A personal euphoria that almost seemed like a drug, to think so heavily upon what enlightened me, only to once again face the realization: It shall not be related. I'd be the soul to give advice, slave over words, only to be given back, each time being told they were not needed anymore. I'd be the soul to pass worthy advice seen helpful within the blink of an eye, only to realize the words given were rental. So with this, I managed to learn a lesson, many followed. The lessons were grim, straightforward, yet always effective. These lessons would be claimed .. relatable, though seeing through those who come and go like pure glass, I'd know no lessons were ever learned for the others. To constantly think of this as narcissism, is it right to be so indulge within my own mind? Perhaps I truly know nothing, and perhaps it is I who's learned no lessons. Perhaps this entire time I was the one to walk away, with nothing to show for. It was a mystery, as answers to the question were hollow, soft-spoken, or purely pity. Though no pity was ever acknowledged, as it was always proven fake. There would be an abundant of nights spent alone, within the darkness. The thick darkness, in certain times, would constrain me and rip into any positive thoughts I'd have left. The darkness wasn't normal, it was different. I'd feel the need to escape, believe things away. But how can you come to terms to believing away the harsh reality that creeps ever so slowly to your back with a blade. How can harsh reality, or reality in general however strike when it's needed, as am I; to see. Menacing, taunting, relentlessly holding a blade, as if a storm overhead causing mayhem, one that refuses to befall those who fear it. Instead stand as a constant reminder, a constant fear, a monument of emotions to be impossible in trying to ignore. Unexplainable thoughts, unexplainable feelings and memories, they don't add up. Always seeking advice, though the advice given always seemingly bouncing off to them, but within, it meant the world. Yet still, this meanice stands with an unseen motive. I'd sleep, sleep to escape the reality. The only thing that would. It would work, though much like the worldly pleasures, they seemingly go away after its one-time use; One single time, each night, each new thought that would spawn, just as there's one weapon chosen - the blade. These thoughts manifested, I couldn't take it. I felt as if I was running out of breath, the impending doom haze, thick, a hopeless action to attempt fighting. This soul was drowning, this soul was losing air, hope, efforts were no longer working, nor were they showing a purpose. The flame grew more dim by the moment, more and more it went down. This soul was different, this mind was too complicated; unnecessary lengths, but nothing could change what was truly displayed. Nothing fake, that's what was ideal to others, but when displayed, the soul unique was pushed away. Intimidation and fear, constant fear whenever diving into the most of detail to something so small, something seemingly so fixable to many, though proving false to some. I can't take it anymore, I can't! I refuse to stop myself from thinking naturally, I refuse altercation! I refuse what many would consider their way of life, their sanction proving to fall in line upon being a cliche event. Cliche nature that was so heavily handed down, until the inspiration and in-tune mindset appealed. A line in power, oppositions hunted. Souls. This darkness knew no exits, no boundaries. There were none to be drawn, so desperately attempted. A universal void of a boarder continued, of what seemed to be the endless pit of darkness, the enclosing grip of these traumas to my psyche. How can I move day to day knowing I won't find a sanction. How can the others? How can I continue on, when what seems right just proves wrong. Never enough, never good enough, something that'd instill the unmistakable and mysterious guilt.  Why do I feel shame. I have none. This grip, possession. It's becoming too heavy to bare any longer. How can I compete, when my mindset remains within, scaring the common when unleashed. How can I live a life that executes such hatred; Hypocritical, the evil has reached me. I sat there at the end of the bed, I lost touch. I couldn't see what my mind was trying to see, at that moment, it was unleashed to a possession. I could feel the heavy, thick air as I sat in solitude, silence. So silent, it pierced my ears as there was absolutely nothing the room. Upon many failed attempts to sleep, I couldn't avoid the horrid environment I awoke and sat to. Looking around, without a single coherent thought, I saw nothing. I felt nothing as well, my hands down on each sides of my body, upon the bed, it felt almost like a void, as if I sat in one. I felt weak, there truly was nothing I felt as if I could do as I looked around, quickly this time, for not a reason in the world. Was I worried? Panicking? I couldn't think- emotionless. As if under control by another. I no longer knew a solution. I stopped moving, after something came over me, the feelings I knew far too well, the negative haze. It almost felt as if there were tears streaming down my face after this became prevalent in my mind, as if it snapped back into reality, though the reality being as dark and decrepit as seemingly unsessassarly possible. I felt spite, an absolute wave aggression for who I was, it was all aimed to myself. I felt worthlessness, absolute desolation with the grip of self-loathe. I couldn't stop myself, I couldn't think straight, I felt as if I was losing grip with reality entirely as this point, as if I was seriously going insane in the midst of this thick atmosphere, this was the usual denial. The denial soon faded, however, as my mind continued to display the worst of me, as I sat, staring with horror into the darkness. The darkness shifted, stars were seen. I couldn't believe how much I was falling into this pit of absolute depression. I got up, a sudden compulsion. I need to leave, I need to stand, I need to take back my reality. I felt weak upon standing, as if something really had taken control to me, as if the very atmosphere was a being, attempting to stop me from leaving its might. Was this all my own doing? How could such a thing be denied, as the thoughts spawned in my mind. Aggression, pure and raw. Absolute hatred and a want to decimate anything I stood far, as I was convinced, or so the negativety was. I was a terrible person, a soul of filth, someone that didn't deserve a life on Earth. As I thought this, I felt myself actually begin to cry; I felt as if my life truly could've been given to another, more humble soul. I felt as if I was truly someone that made others suffer, a selfish and self-narcissistic person with little to do well for others. I sent myself into a white-knuckled fit. An absolute terror-ride. How could I possibly make anyone happy, I deserve this hatred- I deserve this hell! Masochist! How could I believe these things; How did I manage to get this far- how am I losing control!? I continued; I believed sincerely, despite caring far too much for those who've dumped and thrown me away, that I deserved it. I believed my efforts, care and works were all nothing, worthless garbage, a collective of failed attempts to create sanction for others, pathetic stances that would amount to absolutely nothing, a lazy, sloth being. Was it truth, or was it the possession. When was this hell going to end, and why did it befall. I sobbed, my grip completely rendered as I sat there with little explanation to my actions. The answer wasn't to be found, as I realized my thoughts were at dominance.