When you were too sad to speak, the silence was deafening. I aim to kill all of the memories. I aim to drive until I'm not longer lost. But I'm petrified that I'll never find that weary road back home. I don't remember any of my dreams, but I've been waking with this unknown sense of dread. Like there's a nightmare, though slowly fading, pirouetting on the tip of my tongue. I awoke today, thank god. I don't feel any better, but at least I know I'm still alive. I awoke today, thank god. There isn't a dream left in my head. I'm sick of giving myself away to these things that only abandon in the end. I fall in love with these ideals and when perfection doesn't resonate I repeat the cycle again. I guess I'm getting what I deserve, but it's tearing me in two. And when you give your best, you can expect the worst back. I'm tired of the emptiness. I'm tired of the pain. I'm sifting through these substitutes but it's just not the same. I'll retreat inwards to the darkest places, say hello again to these ghosts of you, and curl up with these shadows.....the only thing left to hold on to. Can I find comfort in myself? Can I find comfort in my past? I tried to fix these problems but found that they were far too vast. I'm being honest with myself, but for the first time I hate what I have found. And I can't shake this, I can't rid this, and I'll be buried with this in the ground.
