Nothing is true;
Everything is only a fabrication of what you want to see.
We grow up with these fancy ideals, taught that the world is spinning that that beauty exists. And somehow we have to pursue that beauty in an honest and humble fashion. Be kind to each other. Be pure. Make others happy. Be honest and sincere and trustworthy.
But when the fucking sky begins to fall, we look up and call it a meteor shower — something beautiful to gawk at because we are too damn ignorant to realize the end of our pathetic little lives is imminent. When we open ourselves up to an honorable and worthy life, all we do is expose ourselves to radiation that eats us up from the inside, writhing on the floor unable to breathe because of the pretty little life we never thought would turn on us weasel’s it’s way into our weakness and incapacitates us. Take away the sliver of meaning we clung to tightly to and strip us of everything we ever dreamed to be.
Even now I’m watching my walls collapse beneath the onslaught of a storm that I was told would never intercept me. EVERY. FUCKING. THING is being ripped from my grasp, including the people that were supposed to be there for me. Set an example. Be strong and show me that it is possible to withstand the most devastating attacks. To rise up from the ashes and start anew, because there is always somebody out there stronger than you to catch you when you fall and show you which way you need to go.
But all I find is betrayal and those who are just as weak as me, in as much need of my support as I am of theirs, and in the long run this mutual assistance will only wear us down so that the wolves will no longer have to work for their food. They can just meander right up and dive in without a struggle.
I just can’t fucking do this any more. I’ve got nowhere to go. No one to turn to. Nobody to trust because the ones I held in the highest regard — whom I let the closest to my heart and gave my all to — dropped a grenade in the chest cavity and ran away never to be heard from again. And those who are considerate enough to remain to try to put the pieces back together are plagued so much by their own personal problems, that neither of us can properly assist the other. I’ve grown so tired… become so weary of appearing strong because everyone else has enough burdens as it is and really there is no one I can turn to. No one strong enough to get me back on my feet and kick me into gear.
In the end, nothing is ever as it seems, and anything that even appears somewhat enticing is only a ruse, bent on taking away everything we hold dear.