To think I have lived my whole life and have nothing to show for it. Or is that just another cliche? Along with love? Along with trust? These are just false ideas. Or complete bullshit. I've waited a long time to be honest with myself. I want to be able to talk honestly because honesty has become so inconsistent in my life. Lacking, if you will. 

I am a victim of my own mind. The stories I read and the movies I watch only feed into my own desire to be someone I'm not. I trust myself to be something different, something better. Trust? What a pathetically useless word. I can feel it hanging in the air, bitter and rusty because no one ever really uses it anymore. No one ever really (means) it anymore. I always wanted to be better. 

I would like to change. But now there's no one around to notice if I do. Except the birds and the bees, and they're all dying off anyways. My mind trails in circles, I can feel my metaphorical feet sinking further and further into the metaphorical sand. Quicksand, even. I'm sinking and sinking and sinking and the more I repeat that word the more I despise it. Cold and shrill like a heart beat that has stopped, like the scream that follows. Cold like death. 

This mind of mine is dark but still I'm sinking, believe me I would save myself if I could.