you once..

you once looked at me with eyes of admiration, as if your eyes have never and will never see somebody more beautiful. You once looked at me with a stare that could not be replicated or mimicked, as it was ripe with passion and ferver. I was yours and you were proud. You once boasted about me and took any given opportunity to say that I was yours. You loved me once. You wanted me once. You once held me with a grip so tight that my body quivered in your hypnotic hands. What happened to that? Did adders slither there way out my locks because, now, when you look at me, it's as if you've turned to stone. Your stare no longer reflects weakness for me but rather, it reflects icy hate. How could someone you once loved so deeply now be worse off than your wort enemy. How I long for that once. How I long to go back to that. You'll never really know because you have turned stone cold. You're a rock that can not be chizzled down. And now everytime you look at me a part of me dies. Those same eyes, those same hazel eyes, they were once my comfort. Now they're vapid pathways that lead me into a vacuum of self-loathing.

in the zone

i haven't done this in a while but i think it's about time I get back in it. Writing has always been my therapy even though sometimes it gets the best of me. It's no different from anything else in my life. I over-analyze, over-think, over-worry which all derives from my always lingering sense of fear. My often occurring writer's block comes from the fear of not being good enough; the fear of being judged. Except this writer's block is not the one that people get at the start of an essay, no, this writer's block rears its ugly head whenever I'm about to step out of my comfort zone in life. I sit there like a deer in headlights and don't want to move. I don't want to deal. Sometimes this makes me question if I'm really able to handle life; handle all of its obstacles, tribulations, tumultious bumps. I really don't know if I can. I rather just live my life in the zone, with headphones on, allowing the music to block everything out. Some might say that that is no way to live because the good is blocked out with the bad, but at this point-I don't really give a fuck. Because all the good I've been feeling have been insipid teasers that give me false hope. They cause me to get excited, hopefull, happy and all for what? To be shut down to a place that's lower than the fiery inferno that's Hades. I don't know what life has in store for me but I sure do hope that I become stronger. And, maybe even some day I'll be able to tackle that writer's block head on, until then I'll continue to shut out the world and remain in the zone.