The Fire Dwindles, Yet

As I sit here in yet another room I’m fucking discounted or given have you, to pursue this fucking farce that is my attempt at happiness I sense a sad realization.

With all the awards and accolades I’ve slowly been gaining in the writing community, I’ve found the one person that seems to give less of a shit about my efforts than the industries I try to become relevant in is me…

Friends continue to offer their words and figurative hands from afar for support, but my self-hating cynical mind won’t allow me to acknowledge it as anything more than their internalized conceited attempt at “kindness”.

I’m sure they mean well. Fuck, I mean well. But as this stupid idea of mine manifests further, what people “mean” doesn’t fucking mean anything. If it did my work would be more popular as I meant it to.

My work would be reaching someone to make them see life in a better or more realized fashion than they previously had, as I MEant It To.

My intentions to find some form of legitimate work to afford not being a god damn fucking leech on everyone I care about to pursue an accomplishment of what I’ve “Meant to do” for these past 11 fucking months would have been realized.

But no, No the world can’t have that. Whether it be because it’s cruel or because I’m just that fucking stupid I can’t see what I’m doing wrong. You tell me. I really don’t know anything anymore. I don’t even know how the fuck to fall asleep. Close your eyes and turn your mind off right? That’s how we are meant to sleep.

But no.

They don’t understand this reflective state of failure I’ve dealt with, growing like a tumor on my pathetic shrapnel that is my self worth.

But again, how could they? Even I don’t understand why this stupid shit is so fucking important to me.

Why do I have such dreams if I can’t EVen Fucking SleEp?