Making my way

Damn, I’m awake. I was enjoying the feeling of death, sleep gives me — why did I wake-up. Failing to fall back into death, I WALK-up, and what do I see — my-self in the mirror. Oh, how I dread that nauseating feeling the sight of myself gives me.

With Darkness vibrating in me, I leave the house, jump on the train and make may way. Making my way to whatever hell is in-store — I feel alone. Making my way alone with a thousand people. Every look that is given makes me feel nauseated again. Reminds me of the mirror – again. My stop has arrived, I slip passed –at double-speed– through the barriers, passed the guards, and onto the next train. I’m in the underground now, without the chance of escape, I face my fears. The fear of being pitied is prevalent today: it must of been apt today. As my station draws closer, more people get on. The more people get on, the more I feel alone. Each person, each look, each smile, each movement, makes me feel alone. I’ll take a risk, I’ll smile back. But I don’t: I sit there looking like the complete loner that I’am. I think, therefore I’am.

My station has arrived. At triple-speed, I get passed the guards, the barriers, and outa the station.

The way back is the same. The in-between doesn’t matter. But I still have hope — hope that I will not wake-up, this time.


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