Heysátan

I forget.

I forget on purpose.

I'm at an impossible stage.

I'm torn between two worlds.

One world is confusion. But, the epiphanies that come few and far between in that land of confusion are when I finally feel like me. Feeling like me is something that is difficult to describe.

Everyone defines me with the exception of me.

Feeling like me has been something that has disappeared more and more. These random nights. These random nights at 4AM. These nights. These nights are disappearing. And, I once knew that as a bad thing. I don't anymore.

The other world is the world that everyone wants to help me into. "You're so intelligent, Michael. I just want you to be happy." Their intentions are good. They see that I am lost, and being good people, they want to help. But, they can't help that they are people. Being people makes them, unfortunately, selfish. They want me to be what they love about me. And, the saddest part lies in the fact that this is the biggest flaw I can find in them.

I don't want their help. I want my help. The blind leading the blind. It's a stage of life mostly filled with confused sadness bordering on depression. But, it's who I am.

So, I'll get a job. I'll get married to a woman that loves me. I'll have two, maybe three children. I'll do it all with a smile on my face. Everyone will see how happy I am. I am the master of deception. I deceive even myself. I'll tell everyone how much I enjoy mowing my lawn. "I zone out. It let's me think." They'll be intrigued. But, the only thing I am zoning out is that slowly diminishing fight to be me.

Me.

The word I wish Webster's could define.

So, I'll drink a 12-pack. I'll smoke a few bowls. I'll escape. I'll get the slight joy of living in both worlds at once. I'll entertain everyone just enough to let them know nothing is wrong. Everything is wrong.

I have got to be the most selfish, self-destructive being living on the planet. The loss of my naiveness is the biggest loss I've ever faced. The bubble that let me live in the other world and not even know I was doing it. The transformation from happy drunk to angry drunk.

The world I want to live in doesn't exist. If you can't see it, hear it, taste it, or touch it, it doesn't exist. Not to the human mind. I'm in my own confusing movie.

But, my story is slowly dying. Each day my life has less foreshadowing and more flashbacks. The death of me. I'm writing myself out of my own script.

I'm going to bed soon. And, when I wake up, most of this wont make sense. I'll tell myself I was just in a bad mood. I'll forget. I'll forget on purpose. But, I am the master of deception. I deceive even myself.