“We’re Concentrated On Falling Apart”
Some say monsters come out in the dark, they say the creatures of the night lurk in your closet or under your bed – I disagree. The only monsters paying me any attention are the ones in my head, the ones in my heart, the ones that come out just as I start to believe things will be alright.
It’s 2:45 in the morning, and for some obscure reason, I’m still awake, awake and wishing for nothing more than an ounce of sleep. I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and regrettably, I’ll admit it’s my own fault. I stay up, tossing and turning, thinking about every fucked up thing going on in my life, in my friend’s lives, in my family’s lives. I dwell on things I can’t change – this is one of my many flaws, perhaps my biggest.
The worst part about my nighthawk routine is the fact that the later I stay awake, the more upset I find myself. The more negative my thoughts start to become. I’m not quite sure why, but I feel like it may have to do with me being alone. Alone with my own thoughts, my own feelings.
What am I meant to do? Who am I supposed to be? Where am I going to end up? All of these questions constantly running through my head. I feel like I am supposed to be doing so much more, I should be somewhere else, I should be someone else, I should be making a difference. Instead, I’m doing nothing. I stress over things that could have been, and I push those who care about me most away. I’m selfish, I’m careless, and most of all, I’m spiteful.
Lately, I hurt all the time. I put on a façade to avoid portraying weakness, but I’m broken – I’ve been broken for a long while now and it seems as though it’s self-inflicted. I could have avoided the pain, but instead, with malicious intent, I created it all. What’s worse, I didn’t only break myself, but I broke him as well. He gave me his whole heart, at least that’s what he claimed, and for what it’s worth, I gave him mine.
I can’t stop – we can’t stop. It’s become a vicious cycle, a game of sorts, an irrefutable game with no winner, and as time goes on, we get better at playing. I question my motives. I question his motives. I question love. If two people love each other so much, why hurt each other when opportunity presents itself?
I wonder where he is, what he’s doing. Does he still think of me? He says he does, but the truth behind his words has dissipated. Then again, truth isn’t in my nature these days either. I lie. I lie to him, I lie to myself, I lie to my friends. I pretend I’m okay. Truth is, I’m pretty fucked up…