Bittersweet

This taste in my mouth isn't doing me good.

I don't know what I am anymore. If this is life from now on, I'm not sure that I want to drink it.

Anywhere you go is going to be the same once you're used to it. Everything is such a frenzy that even the selfish appreciate the beauty in simple things.

A promise to be there is nothing, unless you are. I've been hollowed out and defeated. There's not much left inside me.

An interesting thing happened though, due to an incomplete removal of fleshy tissue from my throat when I was a child. Things grew back and seem to be causing problems.

I am not understanding things so clearly. Maybe it's all the fucking medication, or just the fact that I'm completely braindead. The sober reality of existence is catching up with me. Eventuality has struck me, straight through my body.

I do hate the fact that these issues are not as important as those issues. I see the point and accept that it's tough, but empathy is my understanding.

If I could only say how ridiculous this is, how clearly the point is stated, how undeniably wrong I am for feeling the way I do, or just how right I think I am. Things might be easier.

Reality is mistaken for the truth, as it is what you make it. I exist somewhere far removed from it, where things are just the way I like it. It's a coping mechanism. Just by stating it I realize reality is not the same for everyone and this crushes mine. I am no better than the religious. My thinly veiled reality is cloaking the light of understanding.

Clarity is all that I seek.