Cocaine

“Here I am trying to live, or rather, I am trying to teach the death within me how to live.”
Jean Cocteau

~

It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay in the end. That's not true. Stop lying. Everything's getting worse and you know it. Enough with this 'there is a light and it never goes out' crap. This world is rotten and you know it. You know it because you can see it. You can see the pain on their faces, there where each time, a part of you dies.

It's not okay. It's cold. How terribly lonely it must feel to see all through their eyes while no one can scratch your eyes' surface. I know you're just pretending not to be dead on the inside. I know that, in my head, that white line twists into the first letter of your name because I can smell your perfume right before the broken snow invades my bloodstream. And it's cold because I know I can't hug you anymore.

I know you erase yourself and that's why you can feel what they feel. I know you can't even dare to face yourself. I know you can't even bear the sight of your own reflection. You don't have the heart to stand the hurt that's carved itself on your soul, that black stuff you think you can hide in the shadows. But you know what? I'm gonna tell you the truth, the secret of life. So listen.

The truth is that there are three kinds of people on this planet. First are the heartbroken who want to break everything and everyone else because they worship their own brokenness. Second are the heartbroken who keep looking everywhere just to avoid looking at the bloodied shards at their feet. And third are the heartbroken who have realized that all the little bits have mixed, that a renewed heart is a mosaic of the heart-bits we fall in love with.

But enough with theories and myths. Tell me why you're burned out. Tell me how you've strayed so far from home. Tell me how heroes become villains. Tell me how heroes become villains. Tell me how heroes become villains. I'm sorry. I really am. I'm sorry that we're all addicts, that we depend upon chemical explosions in our kingdom to forget that everyone's either dead or gone. Maybe that's why we keep trying to control other people - because no matter what they do, in our heads, they remain motionless objects we need to move. Maybe we know deep down, that no matter what we do, we're motionless objects too. And we're never gonna change. Now would you fucking look around? Look around. Is anyone seeing what I'm seeing? It's that same lie everyday. It's the same delusion every fucking day and the drugs don't fucking work. We're just pretending that they do. So take that mask off your face, will you?

Right now, I don't think you can find it. So I won't ask. I know you're lonely. It's okay. I know you feel more like a stranger here with every passing day. I know that you feel dead inside. I know that you're me and that I am not you. This storm is death. And I'm sorry I'm not good enough.

But you know what? I'm gonna tell you the real truth, the secret to life, the only drug you truly need. So listen. Listen close.

Hope.

Everything's gonna be okay. I can't promise you that. I can only hope for it. And I hope that I'm not lying.

~

"Memories consume
Like opening the wounds

I'm picking me apart again."

Linkin Park