I just don't know anymore. I just don't know hardly anything at all.
Or maybe its just that I don't want to know.
Everything lately is a ruse. Not for others, but for myself. To convince myself of my good sense and self-will.
I've got none. I'm all words and no action. I haven't started any fires. I couldn't even tremble to begin to. It would feel like I was burning my living flesh. And I haven't been throwing any water on existing fires. Only gasoline.
It's not slipping away. I'm just hiding it. I'm just denying it. But heartily denying a thing, ignoring it in favor of smiling emptily and staring blankly and laughing in a hollow manner, doesn't make the thing denied less true. It doesn't snuff out its existence. It lives and burns still. I just shut my eyes like a little child and yelled at it "I CAN'T SEE YOU NOW SO YOU DON'T EXIST ANYMORE" while the flames are licking my face.
This is absurd. Everything's absurd. I don't know what to do. I don't know anything. I just know to laugh and smile and pretend to myself that the world is perfect until I believe it, and how to have cold, painful, sleepless nights occasionally choked with sobs.
I don't know. I just don't. Or maybe I do know. More than what I claim to at least. But I just...I just don't want to know for a little while I guess.
(Did I ever tell you that this poem was not written for no one as the introduction and note claimed? That was one of my many many little white lies to cover up what could have been a dreadful shame and disappointment. That was almost exactly two months to the day before...I shouldn't be saying this. I shouldn't be saying any of this. This has got to be my last entry about this. It won't be, I know myself too well, but I am still going to say that it must be.)