I'm ok

While the light dims, the fire cools and the sound mutes, I walk. The path ahead waits for no one, but my steps are heavy and my tracks keep fading, leaving no legacy behind, no trace of what made me strong, and now I'm weak and tired. It is important to remember where one comes from, but it becomes impossible when the fog is so thick you can't even see your shadow. The puddle under my feet is so muddied, there is no way I could see my reflection in it. But if I did, would I like what I'd see? Would that face be smiling or grinning back at me?

I keep making the same mistake just for the sake of warmth. I keep stumbling on the same stone in my way, as if it followed me. I can't seem to let go of this stupid idea. The thought of needing to be held. The error of holding on to the thorns and killing my thirst with the blood that drips from my grip. I wish to focus on growth, but I can't even escape the damage, and at this point it feels self inflicted. I trusted too much...

But I'm ok... I really have nothing left to say. What point is there in stating the obvious? What are tears or screams of agony worth at this point? I've lived long enough, but I don't feel like leaving yet. Still, how am I to go on? Will I continue to break my face against the same wall? Is there a way around it? Can it even be crumbled? How is it so impossible to see a way out? I have to stop asking questions, but there are no answers. Incertitude is the path, stormy and windy, pushing from side to side against all odds. The strikes of life are not as hard as having to walk the path alone. But if alone I must walk then... so be it. 

There's no point on giving up. They say "better to have cared than to not have cared at all, better to have loved than to not love at all". I cared enough already. On that I can give up. I've loved enough already, only to be shown that I'm not worth the love after all. If I must walk like a zombie, then so be it. I won't waste my time, waste my breath, my blood, my efforts, my heart... not anymore. I've even forgotten what true joy feels like. I hide behind these words knowing no one will ever read them. I hide my true self knowing no one will ever care to see it. And who knows, maybe someone will try, but it will be too late by then. I've already buried that corpse. Now only the empty vessel remains.

But as I already said...
I'm ok...