Rituals.

This might be the worst idea I've ever had in my life, and probably any past lives. What was I thinking by agreeing to this? This is living with my parents all over again. I can feel it. I can feel my soul dying every second this idea moves closer. If there is any benevolence in God or the Universe, please, give me a better option.

I'm trying to stay, but I just want to go. There are such dark paths around me and all I've ever seen in the distance is fog. Fog that burns like fire with each step I take. And they push me and push me and drag me along. I tell them I don't want to but all they do is shame me. Guilt me into standing up, stepping forward. No one really listens. I tell them and tell them. But they only hear what they want to. With my head in my hands, twisting my hair, oh how I hate it here. They all beg me to stay. But I just want to go.

The music rolls down the list As I play each song To see if I still want it While the voices sing I try to write And as I am told That the music has died I feel the words Breathing last painful breaths My soul is deceased And I give up on the idea That I have anything to say But as I surrender to this My fingers find excuses To keep moving To speak of how Nothing I've ever written Has ever mattered And nothing I've written Has ever been read And nothing I've said Has ever been heard And every creative burst Has gone unnoticed My fingers speak Of how no one has ever cared And now neither do I So fuck them And fuck me And fuck you too.

There's a point, right? I mean, there's a reason to keep going? A reason to bother with all of it? Any of it? A reason to continue, to take step after step, day after day? "It all gets better from here" and all that? Sometimes I wonder. Most times.