The same emotion is rendered every time, a feeling of subtle panic, of hopelessness. Maybe it's only confusion. How can they all be content in their situation? It all looks so hopeless. Yet they put on a facade of indifference, a tough outer layer. I have no desire to crack it, to glimpse the vulnerable inner layers, it doesn't concern me. so i remain transfixed by the hard surface, wondering, but never wanting to know. Everyone's so engrossed in their own lives, bundled in their inner layers, where it's warm and familiar. I'm not comfortable there. I'm despondent, standing in a hallway. Everyone has found a room, a place of solace, yet I am hesitant. My feet are rooted through the hardwood in a callow lack of confidence, merely a feeling of jejune aversion yet it has grown so thick in my soul that the emotion is all I know, all I am comfortable with. I'm sabotaging myself, my mind body and soul. The winds of time are eroding me. I am a hollow vessel, waiting to be filled but hesitant to losing myself. Afraid of failure, of inadequacy. I'm insipid and inept. All my life I've depended on others, was never shown responsibility, trust or freedom. Now everyone is depending on me, for varied reasons. This I can handle. But now I'm forced to depend on myself, there's no one to help me anymore. I've entered a whole new room, and the door has shut behind me.
this is the reason i broke up with him in the first place. because it was so much stress and it just seemed hopeless. i know that's a harsh word but its true. he's got so much on his plate and i dont want any more on mine. i have my own set of worries i need to take care of. but i cant just turn him away. the way he opened up to me...it litteraly moved me to tears. i feel his dispair, his depression. he has nothing. but i dont want him to have no one too. at the moment i feel thats all i can do; give him the comfort of knowing that i'm here for him, that he has me. contrairy to his beleifs he hasnt lost me. if he really had, i wouldnt have seen him yestrerday, or tuesday, or any times before that. we wouldnt have acted or talked the way we did if he'd truley lost me. his words stung because i felt his pain through them. his feelings soaking the words and turning them a different colour. i never told him to get the fuck out of my life, but it hurt to know thats how he fe
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