Memoirs of the Mourned

8 A.M.  

Today I resolved to make a count of all my thoughts after another night of restless sleep.I went to sleep early the prior night in hopes to be productive, and in so I prompted my alarm clock at 4:31 a.m sharp. Regardless, I woke up at seven, because for this time was the first time in a long time I dreamt, it was truly beautiful. I was so immersed into the dream for once I forgot about reality. Gullibly I was again dragged into this lustful illusion of serenity until the hammering beeping dragged me out of bed again, it was like a shock to my brain and a intrusive rupture to my body and it jolted me out of bed in a panic. I laid there wide awake and I dreaded the fact I woke up this morning, my body is heavy and my mind is clogged and I don’t know with what it is filled with but I know there is a lot to deal with today just like every other day. It’s 8 in the morning as I write this and I debate whether I want to go about my day or just lay in bed all day and wallow in my own self pity, but we both know I can’t put my life on pause, not today, I’ll just have to tie my shoes a little tighter and carry on with my day.

9 A.M.

I hate this, this routine, this lifestyle, this hectic insignificant nothingness. I drive and wonder what if it were to end now, what is it that I lived for, what is there that I have left as a legacy, nothing. Every day I work my ass off so tomorrow can be a little easier so I can finally start building and placing the foundations for my future and dreams but when tomorrow comes along and I can’t escape this schedule, it haunts me, follows my every move and has mended my life habits and perspective around its finger and there is nothing I can do. My life is at a constant rush hour like this traffic its congested and overfilled and static, it drains your life out and by the time I reach my destination I don’t want to be there anymore, I don’t want to be here anymore. I think of that daily, do I really want to be here, maybe I just shouldn’t be it’ll make it all easier if it just wasn’t there. This endless loophole of hell could easily come skidding to a halt if my car just skid off the shoulder. That is enough of that though, my schedule can’t fit that in.

5 P.M.

I think I’m going to take the long way home today and see the beach. I can beat traffic this way and I can give myself a refresher from all of this chaos. My car feels humid, its hard for me to breath I just want the salt water breeze and that feeling of being one with the sea, I need to feel apart of something, this congestion has me choking. I feel irritated and my skin is crawling, I feel my self condescension climbing up my spine and breathing over my shoulder with reminders of things I failed at, friends who turned foes, friends whom I made foes, everything that turned bad, it was all my fault. It’s not as if I deserve to grieve, how could I grieve the pain I caused, how can I mourn the souls I tore apart, how can I feel when I stripped my life as a whole from its empathy. I have no time for empathy, well I thought I didn’t, I didn’t know I could feel with the world by the way I walk, I didn’t know I could feel love without another person’s love, I thought they were intangible, but I only realized that my body may be strong but my soul is weak and I realized that too late for the things that were tangible to my soul held more worth than the things tangible to my body. I found life before I took mine, I saw the beauty in life before life drained from my eyes, I heard ease when my ears heard no more, I found comfort in my eternal rest more than any rest my bed offered me.

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