A dying being

It’s as if I lie twitching on the ground barely holding on as they walk around me and take quick glances making me feel ever so exposed. It all just hurts, they step into my wounds with highly salted feet then step back out as if I were not there. They clean themselves leaving me with their muck and dirt and it has all been killing me, the amount I’ve cleaned, the amount I’ve had walk through me, I am a stepping stone, a welcome Matt on the ground and nothing more. I try to go the way the wind blows but I’m too heavy to be carried by it and so I move along sluggishly with barely any urge to move at all.

I am like a landfill for emotions including my own. You can come and dump them right into me, and leave me to deal with them as I deal with my own. It’s hard. And yet I see others who have the same or even worse done to them yet they move ever so gallantly towards their happiness and so I wonder why can’t I? Am I too weak? Am I too blinded by these emotions, the absolute depression I have been stuck with for all of my life? Why can’t I break free of it all? Why must I even try to? It all seems so pointless to me and I cannot possibly see it any other way.

It’s a vicious cycle of gasping for the cleansed air that brings joy and happiness then being stepped on and shoved back down in to the suffocating coffin in which my heart is trapped, held down by fiery chains that singe and burn, more and more. And this coffin has always been toxic, however, now it has risen greatly in its toxicity and keeps on rising while I struggle to break free and I just cannot. The chains latch themselves on so strongly and wrench me back down to my former state on that I will eventually suffocate and die. It is sad. It is so so sad. And there is little I can do anymore to break these chains.

Eventually my heart will be so pressed by the chains that they will burst it. And that will be that. I will be dead and no one will care. A little grieving for a few weeks but then they will not know who I am. They may hear my name and have no recollection of who it even originally belonged to. I just want to be happy. I try and try and can not simply succeed. So when I look around and see all these other great people who have, I cannot help but think how weak, how stupid, how unfit for life I must be.

So eventually I will be dealt with. I do not know what I have truly done to deserve such a torment. But I have and will feel every moment that I die, as I have ever since I’d been born. I was not meant to move on, I was not meant to succeed. I was meant to be walked on, tormented, held down, chained up and left to rot in an emotional hell where I may eventually break free yet be so destroyed that I will take the reaper’s scythe and reap what they have sown. With my own two hands I will end myself and leave my scraps to finish rotting away or be eaten. I am not meant for this life, I am not strong enough. I cannot go on.