I’m not sure what I want anymore. I’m not sure I want to know what I want anymore. I could end this discussion right here and now within the second so maybe that’s the reason of this ramble in the first place. I could shed my clothes and reveal the tissue and bone that entrap me. I could rip the scars away from my veins and just for a moment feel beautiful. I’ve been falling without every landing and for each attempt at trying to grab hold I return back with bloody palms. They say it’s a dark place I’m in but if that’s true why do I feel so light. Why do I only find freedom from my oneself in something that I’m made to feel ashamed of. I can’t walk in stride with the pain. I can’t do it without it. The me I am today is not me. I’m just the vessel for a bigger cause of ending the cause. Maybe I’m okay with becoming part of something beautiful, something final. Here I lie tethered again though and no matter how I try that is one cut I fear to make. One day maybe those lines will blur into total obscurity and I won’t find clarity but I will find nothing. Sometimes nothing is better than a something. Until then, I hope for the oblivion and struggle in the light.