we the broken

isolated madness, again

its coldest at day break, just before the sun starts to heat things up. the heaters in the house kick on and you feel like your smothering in all of it. you kick of the blankets and turn the fan on high, but its inescapable. you reach for your water, try to walk around the house, get your blood going. nothing helps.
  its been another hard winter here, we've had hard ones before, but they all seem significant at the time. a lot of good people traumatized and beaten down by the cold and the snow. a lot of souls lost, alone and getting worse by the hour. drugs are being passed around, overdoses are had, you mourn your dead and you move on. thats all there is to it. this is one of those small towns thats just big enough to not be, but just small enough for everyone to know everyones business.
  we basement dwellers tend to stay in doors to avoid the drama from the rest of the everyday crap that people fill with their oh so important lives. they back stab each other and play games with other peoples lives to affect the lives of the ones who scorned them, perpetuating the cycle of violence and betrayal, all with a scorned tongue lashing in and out of their mouth. i had my fill of it and i never went back for seconds, thank you very much.
  they aren't bad people, here, but they're washed up people. most are beaten down by the expensive nature of new york and trapped in a cycle of earn enough to survive and feel like crap about yourself or terrified by what could happen. the anxiety kills some people. those who are like me just give up and stop caring. we let the bullshit slip right off our backs. if they wanna lock us up, so be it. at least we'll have a roof over our heads.
  you go about your business and do whatever you do to try to dream and escape the hardships of life. you go inside your head a lot. around here, we dream of being famous musicians and making music that all the people of the world can relate to, but the reality is that a handful of people will have heard of us and not really have given a s**t enough to care. our dreams will be shattered when we realize all it is is glamour and nothing more. its all a pile of glitter on the table in the back dressing room. hell, we don't even get back stage or dressing rooms. usually its just the van. thats the place to wait it out. you alone with the stink of your sweat and the hole getting ever wider in your psyche. you know what they say about the road, yea its all true,.
  so why am i trying to do it all over again? why does it call to me? its the only life i've ever known and everything else seems hollow and unimportant no matter how hard i try. you can only fake so much. the cracks start to seep.

Reviews

[AUU]

A different perspective I wasn't expecting when I started to read.

I will say that the first paragraph is a bit confusing.

I think your trying to describe a place where it's cold outside, but suffocatingly warm inside, but it doesn't exactly read like that.

I think the lowercases at each start of the sentence was intentional, and that's pretty great way to allude to the madness.

[Jay Bailey]

its not so much a story as a stream of consciousness rambling as i was actually experiencing these things. its more a journal entry, but there isn't really a way to document that on this site. that might be why its confusing, its meant to be kinda random and mind slipping cause thats very much the place i was in while writing it.

[AUU]

Okay. I understand.

There is a spot where you can write "author notes" when posting. That might help with labeling it as a journal and not a story :)

[Zorrin86]

I like it, keep up the good work.