We are nothing... we were once a species that lived for collaboration: survival deemed it necessary. But now, I pass people on the street that I will never see again in my life. And they take with them a piece of my soul, a piece of the time I spent wondering where they are going, what they are thinking, what they have done, and what they will do. You are all nothing to me but the portraits pasted next to your words, images, videos. Just as the rest of the world is nothing to me but the masks I see in the street, the masks that hide our humanity. I feel as though I could help these people. I feel as though if that man on the train, the one with the book in his hand, staring at it intently through his frames, his left shoelace untied and his right pointer finger bandaged, were to tell me his story, I would be able to help him. Because that is why I am here. That is why I am so self aware. To help humanity; the same species that accepts nothing given to it. I am constricted. I can't take deep breaths because of this weight on my shoulders. It's a weight that goes away only when I weep, only when I break down. And my defenses have not allowed me to do so in years... I seem cocky to the outside world because I try my best to not show just how lowly I view myself, how lowly I view the world. And the worst part is that I know it, and can do nothing to stop it.
And so the piece of my soul that I leave here is this: admittance. I am narrow-minded, I am narcissistic, I am in denial about my imperfection, I am hypocritical, I am depressed, I am self-destructive, I am scared to live my life, I am critical to even my own emotions, I am egotistical, I am incompetent, I am inconsistent I am scared to show my true feelings, I am afraid that the world will forget who I was... and I am human.
I don't want to die... nor does living hold anything I long for.
Created: Jul 22, 2010Document Media