i have extradited myself to an unphasable state of solitude
at a young age i started taking my food to my room and i still do
i remain idle during idle conversation because
inflicting my opinions based on my misguided sense of self importance feels irrelevant
inconsequential
but i dont talk for the hell of it
ive gotten so caught up in discovering purpose that
neither i nor any other noun contain it
cant explain it
the blank canvas is art in itself but i stare deeply into it without amazement
which part is my favorite
cant decide
to be decisive implies certainity but im always clouded by objectivity
so ive decided im wrong
i continue existing under the impression that
my untimely departure would be destructive
my presense applies some sense of comfort
stability to the family structure
but my ability to adapt after a crippling loss has gotten me lost
im concerned i never really cared
instead i mimic those that do in hopes that i will too
as of today not much has changed and i doubt that it will
part of me thinks life would be better off without what could be
and should stick with what i was before whatever life was left in me
completely drained
because i think what remains is an insult to any impact i made on the lives of those
that should mean so much yet seem so distant
i have a date sticker that says "im a bitch" in my car
and ive kept it because it feels so relevant to my existence
im truely afraid to live cause the joy i should know
seems pseudo to what i do know
and operation ivy taught me something real well its that i dont know nothing
and im debating double negatives in a world where its not even a relevant discussion
while i should be debating what i want to do with my stupid fucking life
that is if there is anything i really want and shouldnt i know what that is by now
i guess what i really want is to want something
blindly and truely without feeling

dissociated