Mostly

It's 5:44am. Tonight I sing a song of a person who knows the bowels of life. To sing along means that you, as such as I have a bond forged from something other than carnal flesh. For it is we, the loners, the ones who have experienced loss, the ones who have seen horror. I think I lost a part of myself. To sing a tune that sounds like gibberish to the normal, the loved. It is difficult to remind myself to live. To remind myself that one day I will figure it all out, like the weight of the world on my shoulders, is too heavy. My body struggles to find air, drowning in an ocean of guilt, and suffering. It might be nice, to drown. It might be nice to float away, and hear the voices fade away as the more time passes, I sink deeper and deeper into the sea. I would like to visit it one day, the sea. The sea that might take me away. I must keep fighting, I must keep singing, because it is the only thing that keeps me from drowning now, the singing. There is nothing in this world for someone like me, because I have been broken since birth, no longer human this being loves no one, and finds no comfort in connections. I will drown one day, but for tonight I will sing.