So Tired - by me, August 2011. I'm tired of the ticking of the clock. a good day feeling more like a colorful candy shell around a rich, thick nugget of despair. I'm tired of drowning in the depths of alone. I never knew emptiness weighed so much. My soul bogged down by the pain I've caused. The way I've lived my miserable life. I'm tired of the hell at my core. the torture of a half a life ago. the incessant chiseling in my chest adding ever finer detail to the black monolith of my pain. I'm tired of the skin I call home. avoiding the mirror because I know it only wants to mock me. seeing only the worst in me. repercussions of a lifetime of mistakes and lies. I'm tired of feeling like Munch could have been painting me. believing I had finally gotten it right. So much for that. being given, by turns, nectar and venom. never being loved. Situation normal I'm tired of not knowing if the mask is me, or if I'm the mask. How would I even know? wondering if anyone could ever love the real me. Whatever that is. I'm tired of being so painfully tired, yet so terribly afraid of the sleep. feeling that if each life is predestined I'd rather not have bothered.