Dying For Life

"A coma might feel better than this, 

Attempting to discover where to begin.
You're weighed down, you're full of something.
Of sickness, and desertion.
You're weighed down, you're full of something,
You're underneath it all.

So say goodbye to love,
And hold your head up high.
There's no need to rush
We're all just waiting, waiting to die.

Hope in a better place is all I need,
With moments of innocence and mystery.
Oh, it's the little things you miss.
Like waking up all alone.
Oh, it's the little things you miss,
When you're underneath it all.

So say goodbye to love,
And hold your head up high.
There's no need to rush
We're all just waiting, waiting to die.

All your friends seem like enemies
When you're broken down and empty.
All your friends seem like enemies
When you're broken down and empty.

So say goodbye to love,
And hold your head up high.
There's no need to rush
We're all just waiting, waiting to die." -City & Colour

I could not have said it better myself. And I probably wouldn't try. Oddly, what used to woo and tantalize me, now tends to fill me with disdain. Such is the case with words. Words. So many of them fill the e-pages that interconnect the world, so many on pages of books, and bubbling out of the mouths around me every day. It is the innumerable posts, and pins, and pics, feeds, tweets, and tags that cause me to bite my tongue, to stifle my own creative language. There's no mystery in overused words, in cheap talk, small talk, fake talk. I cannot find the loneliness that I desire in words. That cut-through-your-bones, hold-your-breath, search-for-someone-to-hold-you type of loneliness. It's the feeling I have hated all of my life - and yet, ironically, the feeling that has always driven me to make more of myself than I otherwise would have. Now, it's dust that has settled miles behind my tires... a place I cannot get back to. 

All winter, I have secretly longed for a day to peer out from behind my curtains at a dark and dreary day, smitten with my choice to hide from the voices and chatter and waste. All winter, I have hoped at a chance to be left completely alone in the cold house. No voices. No warmth. No comfort or consolation. No one else's thoughts interacting with mine - just the stark realization that I am a lonely soul in a large world. 

It sounds so depressing, or selfish, or ugly of me. And maybe it is? All I know is that it is not new to me. A year ago, almost to date {and I can picture myself sitting in this exact same place pondering these exact same thoughts}, I had recorded my thoughts as follows... 

Deeply, passionately, truly.. I want us to be held accountable for all of our words. And I want to experience the loneliness that reminds me that I am here for one reason.