Listen

I don't know anymore. I've givn up. I'm trying, but not really. Everthing just seems out of reach and so I've chosen to stop reaching, but it's left me empty. There's really no point anymore. I know I can still do these things but I see no reason  to. What will it accomplish? Money? There's never enough. Family? They're just people to hurt inadvertantly and drag down with you when you drown. So what is there? "Success"? So subjective and unattainable it can never be cahieved. So abstract yet seemingly realistic. The kind of idea a person can cling to. But it's just an idea. A figment of the imagination I never had. A convoluted concept thrown at you before you can even copmrehend its hypothetical meaning.
I'm in pain. not the crushing despair that will compat me into the nothing we all truly are, but a dull ache. The kind that's just a permanent reminder at the back of your mind. That tiny tedious voice which is somehow all consumig. There's no escaping. It's always there, knocking down every structure of any stability. I'm shaken and afraid and unsure. No way to live a life, and yet to way not to. Trapped. Steered by the reigns of a small little voice.
Is this the "holy ghost" or conscience? A small and ever-present voice; is that not the definition? The voice of reason ruled by the all knowing being. This is why we developed religion? faith? A grand idea to describe a small little voice. A sad voice.
Or something less grand? One small word for that whisper only you can here? depression
Or something else entirely?
Who is that twisted little whisper?
Is it simply me?



listen