Pointless life day 13,148 (or thereabouts)
I sit and wait, lurching in dark alleyways of the mind, forever hoping to catch a glimpse of the illusive shadow - Inspiration.
I don't know when exactly I lost it. But it is gone. I don't know what series of events transpired that I lost its sight. But is gone. The first soul crushing job? Perhaps. The first heart break? Maybe. The first time I sold myself for money? A possibility. Or the first time I slit my wrist?
That was the first time that I realized how much I actually wanted to live.
Then, perhaps the second time?
Possibly as well, as there was a sad resignation and the thought that for all that I may have wanted and required of life I was perhaps simply ill equipped to grapple it away from the silent and unfeeling forces.
Then perhaps it was the slew of manual labor jobs for moronic and petty tyrants that never quite paid enough, that always exacted more than they gave, that always left me with a sickening feeling of foul rot in my stomach at the end of each day. A simple peasant eeking out a tiny existence on crumbs, reduced to pandering, begging and borrowing for rent at the end of each month. A failure to myself and the women I loved, turning to the drugs, the pills, the cigarettes and the alcohol to kill the pain and the endless Fear. Yes, I think that was it.
I have awaken once again.
And I need you to feel my pain.