"Never Trust a Hippie"

You know, it's funny. I remember way back when I was pushing sixteen and in this stupidly exaggerated bubble of false optimism. Like a hippie would think, I truly believed the world was kind-spirited and generous beyond belief. I didn't believe in lies, unfaithful partners or corrupt politicians. I thought we were all equal; beautiful and entwined. And, honestly, that's all I ever wanted to believe as I progressed through this manic life. But you know how things are; one big dramatic event can change the way you think or act. And, it's that one certain moment I speak of that managed to make me drop the flower and pick up a deep, perplexing anger that would eventually destroy me. It's that moment that made me question myself and speak only one eye-opening line.

"Never trust a hippie"

Looking back, I can't help but laugh at how I used to dress, treat others, and in general, just waltz through reality like a damn smokescreen filter. Honestly, I thought a lot of things; hardly any of them negative. I had the friendship circle, the "perfect" partner – everything. And, in my eyes, I was destined to live a fruitful life packed full of ambition where everything was in my favour. All I had to do was embrace each day with a grin on my face and a grimace at the lies urging to be spoken. If I could convince myself everything was alright each day – then it would be.

But, the day of decline finally came and I honestly think I started to see things for how they really were. Friends were liars, partners were cheaters, families were two-faced and fake. Everyone and everything – all spiralling into a maddening parallel universe where I could no longer find the door to their filters. Things weren't perfect anymore. Things were different. And, I think it's during that decline that I truly started seeing my older self as nothing more than a mockery of our species.

These days, I feel angry. At what, I'll never really know. But there is definitely something lingering; tugging away at my heartstrings and reeling me into an unavoidable insanity. I don't feel in control of it anymore and it's almost worrying to watch myself plunge down into this everlasting darkness. That loving hippie is long gone, and this new and worsened clone is finally taking its toll on my corkscrewed membrane.

I feel lost these days, as strange as that may be. I write because it takes me away, only I never really know which direction it will take me or whether or not the destination will be a kind one. Sure, it's an escape, but there's that major difference between a vacation and rehabilitation. And, these days, it feels like I could really use a vacation. I need a real escape to take me away and not just sixty-second strolls along cloud nine.

I'm twenty-five and I feel like the midlife crisis has already sunken in to my core. These nocturnal burdens are haunting me like clockwork and, although externally fine, I forever feel internally incarcerated. That's something I wish would just change at the click of two fingers. And yet, the older I grow and the more hatred I pull, the more I feel like my destiny is to be falling forever through an eternal void of black and grey.

Ask me how I'm feeling, and I'll tell you I'm fine. Ask my heart how it's coping, and it'll tell you it's not. Call it a phase, call it stupidity - whatever it is, it's bringing me down and clasping shackles on my ankles like a deranged animal.

Again, that hippie state of mind is truly laughable these days. I'd love nothing more than to be him again. I want to believe that the world is kind and there is still a whole lot of good left in it. But I can't. I'm angry, and I've never felt more alone or concerned over the future of our planets mortality.

I guess, the moral of the story is to never think things are permanently fixated on your mental state. I, for one, have spiralled from happy-go-lucky hippie to self-loathing punk, and where the future lies is truly beyond me. Perhaps, I'll feel the warming embrace of optimism again someday. Or, maybe I really will continue in my twisted route into darker depths. Whatever lies in store – I fear it. I worry that whatever waits around the corner for me could very well be the thing that sends me to the tipping point.

Internally, I am dying. Externally, you'd never even notice me collapsing. But, it's only a matter of time until those cracks become visible to the all-seeing eye. And I don't expect it to be pretty.