Stained Monochrome Wings

Pressures

11-14-12 (revised 12-29-15)

Day in, day out all this shit hangs over my head. Pressures to become the “perfect child” is nearly impossible without betraying my morals and what I deem proper. Always have I been pushed one way or the other; I’ve been annoyed for a long while now by these thoughts. Was this just a test sent by some form of non-existent God to test my strength, or is this simply some kind of red string of fate to decide my destiny from Hell? Such wondering makes my head numb, as if I attempt to escape the reality of this disaster. Run, run and escape from the world. Run to escape this Devil’s image of a perfect child, to run from everything, and to feel nothing. I’m such a creature to be pitied. I am unable to find solaced no matter where I turn. It is my fucked way of living – if one would call it such – and my defense mechanism. So disown me already; or is she merely all vocal with no backbone to support hollow words? Is my existence such a trivial thing which makes her feel a need for mere words? Am I such a petty creature that she feels no need to take action? God, what an idiotic, pointless existence I have. Beaten at the bush.