secret words

it's funny how things change.
the things you were so fond of, the people you knew, the way you saw things.

the scents fade and the pictures warp.

the songs that encouraged you, are now keeping you up at night.
the teeth in the smile you loved are gnawing off all the serotonin in your brain.

the drugs you take every morning are supposed to make extra and help even it out, but they quit on you, just like everybody else.

you think you remember someone being kind, someone asking where you have gone, not realizing you are just the end of a string wrapped around your brain. you think that happened, but you don't really remember those types of things.

it's like you keep shitting out every positive thing you take in and flushing it through pipes until even the happy things are so shit covered your whole life looks like that. One heaping pile of shit.

you wonder how it got that way and you don't know. you wonder why you can't fix it and then you wonder if you ever tried, because you have a routine.

You wake up every morning too late and then hate your self because you care too much. you use your 10 minutes to get ready and make yourself look like you dont give a fuck. you take the same medications at the same time right after your cat takes a shit at the same time. you look at each other ashame do fthis exchange, both kind of irritated by what the other keeps doing.
you go to school and answer every question in your head, but never out loud. you only speak in one class, but that's german. you talk there because you can talk fast and no one knows what you are saying. you talk there ebcause it feels the same as how you talk in front of anyone. you babble off words and wrods with meaning behind them, but no one really listens closely enough to get what you're saying, they just pick every other word and create their own sentences.
you come home to a house. just a house. a house that only gives you enough time to change your shoes before you go to work. when you get to work you smile fo rthe customers, you smile when you clean up the dirnks they spill, you smile when you hit the bruise on the palm of your hand over and over again. you smile when they leave without a single tip or a thank you after they order the wrong thing three times and you remake it for them. you stay late every night.
you go back to your house. just your house. you don't make food because you know your medication is about to start wearing off. you know when that happens, you will start to feel nauseous. you dont wash your face because you dont care anymore. you like in bed so awake, waiting for texts that take too long. you stop responding because you dont want to move and you dont want to be a nuisance. your legs fall asleep and your arms and your fingers and you're so tired your cheeks go numb. your entire fucking body is taunting you because it can go to sleep, but your brain can't.
you wish you could cry, but the nights you do are the worst. you feel the meds wear off and you become yourself again. you think of horrible things. you think of bad dreams. you think of where everyone else is, everywhere you are not. you think about people awake because they want to be, not ebcause someone or something is keeping them up. you think about what you used to have and the tears come harder. you think about how you feel like everything you have now is falling apart and you stop crying. you realize you have to start again because you are a miserably sad person and night is the only time you can cry. your entire body aches and you feel that son of a bitch pit in your stomach again. you know these are the physical aches of depression. you are indifferent with this knowledge. it sitll hurts.
your alarm goes off and you are still awake. you set an alarm for 15 minutes later, and you sleep. you sleep for 15 minutes. your alarm goes off again. the same song every morning. the same routine everyday.

but today you are making a breakthrough.

you are typing this in the light of a poorly lit computer screen with big fat tears falling down your face. the big fat tears that break your heart when they are stuck on the eyes of little children. you are a child in more than one way. you are an idealist, and it's eating your soul. you are throwing a tantrum, and now you are feeling sleepy. you rant and write and blog, like a child, a child who knows how to type, then you feel better.

this is your life because you are a human.
this is your slump that you can't get out of.
this is your life and it is exactly the same as everyone else's,
except you realize the routine.
you and me are a lot alike you know.
we see the world for what it is, despire what it could be.

we are the pessimists, and i am the end.