Ode

Skin cold from touch, she lives full of fear, her chest rising with each breath and falling, in a constant notion. She looks at the ceiling, as if hoping for god. Her eyes aren’t filled with tears, not yet. But even that’s not definite. She wants to destroy something. She knows she’s made a stupid decision, but she can’t stand the thought of fixing it. She can’t stand the thought of anything, except that one thing. And she needs that one thing.

Except, she can’t have that one thing. She’s going stir-crazy. She wants it with all her heart, mind, body and soul. Fuck everything and everyone else, this is all she needs.

But the more she has, the crazier she is. The less she has, the better she gets, the happier, the saner. But she can’t stand being without it. It makes her happy, if only for a moment. She knows she’ll have to quit it soon, to live her only dream, and the thought of that kills her. But she needs that dream, as much as she needs the thing. She needs both, but she can’t have both.

Really, it’s a horrible situation.

She doesn’t want anyone, she just wants the thing. She only needs it, craves it, breathes the very concept of it. She wants the dream, she wants the goal. She wants the personification. She wants everything, but can’t have anything.

Because with it, she is nothing.

And without the dream, she is nothing.

So she thrives on nothingness, attempting to decide which one she needs more. The dream, or the thing. She knows which answer is smarter, safer, and saner. She doesn’t know which answer is right though.

So she just keeps on going, fucking it all, because really, what else is there to do? She can’t live with either, she can’t live without.

And she realizes this is it either way – the loneliness, the craziness, the emptiness, either way, this is hers, and this will always be hers.