There should have been desperation. Where was the desperation? You turn inward. You try to find something, anything that you can feel and hold onto. But there’s nothing. There’s just mild confusion and a tiny voice that’s telling you to sleep. You ignore it. It’s been – a week? Two weeks? You swear there’d been feeling. You know. You have the scars to prove it. But there’s nothing now, you’re just okay and tired and average. There’s nothing to cling to, nothing to make you the best, and you’re okay with that, too. You feel like some part of you should be aching for what you’ve lost, what made you who you are, but you can’t even find that. You remember feeling the pain and promising yourself you’d bury some of it away for later. That was the agreement. It would always be there, be a part of you, so you wouldn’t lose yourself. You have the scars, after all. They meant something, didn’t they? Where was the pain now?
You sicken yourself. There are worlds falling apart around you and yours has at last come together. You have fought long and hard and at last you’ve won a little peace but you want already to throw it all away. You want the pain back just so you can feel again, feel anything other than okay. The pain had been with you for so long, had become so much a part of you that you don’t even know who you are without it. What do you do now? Where are all of the things you promised your old self you’d become?
You want to be angry. That’s a feeling you can remember, and occasionally even fake, but it’s not the same.. You want to be able to saw away at your skin like you used to, to feel so much that you couldn’t hold it in, when the words and the blood would come rushing out and paint the prettiest picture and for a while you really were the best. Where was that feeling? Why did it leave you?
It wasn’t fair. You can’t fathom the injustice. You were just growing used to it, accepting it, learning to use it for yourself, and now it’s gone and there’s nothing left behind but some scars and you, but you’re just average, why would anyone care about you anymore? It isn’t fair but you aren’t angry. It isn’t fair but you aren’t desperate. It isn’t fair but you can’t find the words. You are gone, you’ve been replaced. Now you’re just normal, and that’s okay.
tagged as: desperation, words, writing, Comfortably Numb, Pink Floyd,