ihavebeenfloated

The door clicked shut behind me, and I couldn’t help but fall back against it, half hoping it would fall back open and send me back inside where I thought that I belonged. But it didn’t, I stayed outside, where I put myself knowingly. My bag fell off my shoulder, and hit the ground, followed by my slow descent until I was sitting, propped up against the door, with my head in my hands, and tears starting down my cheeks.

I realized that if I sat there, either she would find me, or someone else in the building would, so I manged to pick myself back up, and after a slight stumble on the stairs, I found my way to my car, where I allowed myself to really lose it, regardless of the window in front of my windshield with the open blinds and the people moving around behind it. When it finally stopped, my head rolled off to the side and I sat there staring at the light in front of my eyes, the defining nothing of my vision, for about five minutes before I came to.

For someone who claims he never cries, I sure have been doing it an awful lot these last few months.

I merged onto the eight west, heading home. My knuckles already hurt from the floor of her apartment, and my steering wheel made them even worse. I put on the possibly cheesiest album of all time for this drive, and it’s lyrics, although terrible cliche, are true. Music is strange like that, songwriters can write the most awful shit and it can come across as sincere and true, and in the right moments, even as if the song was written just for the listener, just for you.

i’ll never find someone quite like you again / i looked into your eyes and saw a world that does not exist / i looked into your eyes and saw a world i wish i was in

Etc, etc, etc.

But then again it’s all my fault, it’s my stupid belief that I have control over myself when in all actuality, I have none. I can’t prevent myself from doing the stupid fucking things I do. I can’t prevent myself from getting carried away. It doesn’t help any when it’s practically begged for, but that’s besides the point. Now I feel myself getting bitter and not sad, and that is a stupid fucking thing, even worse than feeling sorry for myself, let me take a breather.

I almost went to the store and bought cigarettes, but I didn’t, because I proved to myself today that I am smart enough to walk away from something that is designed to kill me, either physically or emotionally.

Why? Jesus Christ, why?

How much does it hurt to walk away from everything you could ever dream of and couldn’t ever really have?

Even though it should feel good, it doesn’t.

It’s like drowning yourself when you don’t want to, but you know that if you kept on living, it would only get worse. You keep on trying to suck water into your lungs but your body doesn’t want to let you, and your mind is recoiling in horror, but you know what you have to do.

But, eventually you’ll finally die.

When you walk away, there is no sweet release at the end of it, only slow and painful recovery.

I would rather be drowning right now.

I would rather be a fucking moron who doesn’t know any better. Someone who is happy with being second best and happy being the back up, and happy wondering if he’s being used, or maybe knowing he’s being used and being happy about it, or maybe convincing himself that he’s doing the using.

I just wish I didn’t have to do what I knew was right.

If this is being a strong person, I would hate to see what a weak person is. All the bullshit shoved down my throat by my peers has always been the mantra that walking away is the pussy’s way out.

But how can you fight? How can you fight something you can’t win? How can you keep fucking going even though everyone and everything you know about the world is telling you that losing is the only way out.

Fuck it, I made my choice. No use debating it now, no matter how much it burns inside of me. I decided to tap out early, instead of waiting to have my face caved in.