Farce

There are some days when you wake up and everything just feels so off. It feels weird to be in your own skin. You can't grasp the sensation of your breathing. Your chest moves while everything stands still and somehow you feel like screaming.

Everything is so tight inside you. You can't seem to find a release. The pressure is building. You don't know what will happen if the valve is released. You hope it will because that will mean that something is finally happening, but you're afraid because you don't know what will happen either and the fear of the unknown scares you.

Do you ever just get days like that? Everything is wrong. My life is wrong. I'm wrong.

Who's that girl in the mirror? I don't recognise her. I don't know her. Her eyes... they're so black, so void, so filled with emptiness....

Who is she?

I don't know. I don't want to know. Just thinking about it sends creeps down my spine. I wish I can destroy every reflective surface I see. Isn't it enough that I have to deal with her in my head? Do I have to see her too?

Her physical being repulses me.

Utter disgust. Complete alienation. Who is she that I'm seeing in the mirror?

I'm screaming. She's screaming. And today is just such a good day to just let it all go.

But I don't. Cause I still care. I don't know why I do but I do and cause I still do, I can't. I'm doomed.

I can't think anymore. It's driving my brain insane. When I don't get cutting urges, I get suicidal wishes. When I don't get both, I get an existential crisis. I don't even know which is worse. It's like a buffet. So many dishes in front of me. They're all limitless in servings. I just have to choose one.

It all kills me inside. I don't know why I bother.

Why this farce? Day after day.

Why?

I don't need Beckett's Endgame to tell me that life's meaningless. I can see that clearly for myself. I don't need him. I don't need this.

Yet every part of me craves it. She wants freedom. She wants dreams. She wants everything that I (me) cannot give her. She needs to die but she's too busy trying to stay alive.

And I let her.

Because it doesn't matter which one of us dies. We're all figuratively dead in others' eyes.

So promise me tomorrow you'll work with me.

The farce has to continue on.