Human

In all honesty, not really story, not quite poetry or any other "type" it suggested. So I give you my thoughts, giving my words a home in four paragraphs.

Here I am, sitting on my bed, the acoustic sound of the music seeping into my brain. My body aching from exhaustion, yet it’s blissfully resting in the crooked creases of my bed. The iridescent glow of my skin is masking the inconsolable reflection of my inner thoughts and emotions. At this point, my life has reached a monotonous equilibrium of misery and tolerance. As I sit here, blissfully consumed by the melodious tones of guitar, my chest is slowly filling with fluid. It’s becoming hard to breathe.

Today I cried. I tried not to, I really did. But, sometimes the feeling of dread seems inescapable. My sadness consumes me, and i’m pathetically permissive to the drowning sensations it brings. It makes me feel human. Like the sadness keeps me alive, and somehow sane. Because, out of all the human emotions, sadness (in its treachery) is much better than anger or arrogance. It breeds inner assassination, yet it has never made me into a monster like other emotions have. It’s inner pain, however, it would never hurt the ones I love.

Recently, the list of people I love is growing, but the list of people who love me is pitifully vacant. I can’t figure out why. It bothers me, all I want is to love and be loved. But, I unwillingly love those around me. For, I recognize their radiance, and admire their beauty. Qualities I crave, qualities I envy. I think my sadness originated with the people I love. They infiltrated the untouched parts of me, and introduced sensations of trust, desire, passion. Sensations of inebriated happiness. It was being human with simplistic beauty, and uncontrollable incandescence. Euphoria. How lovely. However, they are now only faded shadows. Visions of love stuck in memory, and sick mockeries of reliable happiness. Their absence has been personified as existential emptiness in my chest. Somber shapes of human emotion, drained of elation, and replaced with gross substitution. Substitution of sadness. Substitution of misery.

But, I need to feel human. I need to feel something. I can’t live in nothingness, there is nothing there for me. There a certain pain in being human. An indescribable suffocation and relaxation, something that promotes growth while demoting confidence. Because pain is humanity. It’s a shred of reality that everyone experiences, something that can’t be escaped. Pain affects everyone, at least I hope so. Because I am pathetically clinging to pain in hopes that I will be able to experience that lovely extensions of humanism. So I wait, as I have been for so long. To feel complete, to feel simplistically human.