I Don’t Feel like Dancing Anymore

Do you ever feel completely empty inside? Like you’re just observing the world through a dead person’s eyes. Like the world is just one big documentary that you’re barely paying attention to. Like you’re constantly forcing yourself to act, act through everything, while secretly you’re falling apart at the seams.

Trying to find salvation, but always coming up short. Like you’re losing everything, and you’re trying to find someone to blame, but you can’t because the only person there, is yourself. Do you ever just feel dead inside? Like someone scooped out everything, and just left behind an empty shell? Do you ever just stare out at the night sky through your window and feel like it’s all pointless? Like trying to find peace within yourself is impossible.

Swimming in an endless ocean of regret and criticism. Embarrassed and afraid of all your actions, caged by your seemingly lack of options bringing about your deepest fears of loneliness. That primal fear that evokes your need for survival, yet that very same fear that drapes it’s embroidered collar over your neck and down your sagged and ragged shoulders until it envelopes your arms and chest, tightening its poisonous hold on your grief struck body. Why grieve you ask? Well, how should I know, I myself ask that very question. Why grieve when there’s so much to look forward to? Well, maybe I do know after all, I grieve because I can’t see it, I don’t allow myself to see it, some awful defective part of me gets a sick thrill when it starts to close all the doors I work hard to open. But it’s that fact that there’s nothing there, an endless unknown of what could have been.

What’s left for me here? What’s honestly left for me to do or want here? What is it all about? I know I have a lot to fight for, someone to love and care for, but it gets hard when your soul just feels drained for no reason, poisoned since birth to live in doubt and fury.

I feel like I’m endlessly dancing a ballad of despair, my only partner being my thoughts. I feel the need to keep dancing because that’s what is expected of me, but I just wish I could stop and take a break. I am tired. The only consolation is the fact that I’m keeping up with this terrible rhythm, but my partner is dancing circles around me, keeping up gets harder and harder.

Why must we keep dancing? Why keep up the pace? The music just repeats itself over and over, no fluctuation. It was a lovely tune at first, but now it’s a deafening cacophony. Why can’t we change it? Why must it always be this one? Can’t we dance a different tune? Or can we just not dance at all? I feel ridiculous for the way I dance this wayward tune, yet I can never stop dancing.

They don’t want me to, they enjoy it. Those sick shadowy bastards that come to me at night, creeping up from the quiet darkness that seems to consume it all. That which blocks those comforting rays of light that seep through the underside of my door. But the worst part is, I need them, I need them with me. Their laughter, the setting they mercilessly place me in, the strings they attach to my bones.

I enjoy this new normal, I enjoy this reckless mood, it’s my darkest tool. Their finest hour impromptu. Deception, compression, my final stride towards depression.

-B. I. C. R