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Construx Conspirators: Anonymous

9:00:00 AMPaul

Got this in our inbox, and decided to post it.

You visited me in my dreams once again.

Sweeping me off my feet to a myriad of of color and sound, my heart skips a beat.

But I can’t take it.

I can no longer feel. I’ve lost control over every last emotion. I am devoid of feeling and of reason. I just know I don’t have much left.

I spend my days in a constant cycle of sleep and wake. A phantom of this current time and place.

I know the ending to this current story. Yet, I hurtle myself down the path towards failure. I’m a masochist because of one little mistake. Or would we call it a giant mistake? As I play with the heart strings. I toy with the mind.

I’m a broken record, a broken being.

Broken down without a sense of feeling.

I drink from the bottle; my new best friend. It numbs the pain, and fills the void. For once I can feel-- beyond the fire in my gut.

And then it is gone. And then I regret. I make a mistake and it eats me alive. I tear my soul to pieces, asking why. What could I change? What could I do different? Could I have said something to change your mind?

I sit here screaming to the music, the tears rolling down cheeks. I feel trapped. I can no longer breathe. I’m not who I want to be.

What happened to being free?

The hole keeps getting deeper.

What the fuck am I doing?

In the end, i’m only hurting myself.

Yet, now, I’ve found something I want.

At least what I think I want.

Decisions.. Oh they come crashing down. Like a waterfall. Like a hurricane. That summer storm that whips me up and throws me down.

I skate along another perfect circle, hoping the ice doesn't break. The freezing water of my conscience that I can't afford to break.

My mortality is all too clear as I take risks I hadn't taken before. As I take a brush with fate. Again and again.

But no regrets in the twisted learning process. I only form more wishes. And I keep thinking. Each thought beat into a tiny little pulp-- over analyzing each and every little detail. I think and I think and I think. With music blasting through my ears, I people watch. Each glance is an insight into a snippet of a story.

And I wonder.

What story do I display?

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