dead end

i used to play sad songs, and they would give voice to my sadness. the sadness would find it's way out of me...and it would go on it's way, like a pitiful drifter who scares you a little. it would shuffle it's down the street, turning back once or twice to throw me a hateful glare, but still it kept moving. after i while, i could draw deep breaths again.

or i would write, and the words would come as a surprise. some ancient hurt would find it's voice, too, and somehow that's all it needed...just to be heard, just once. then that hurt could lie down and rest, let me rest...

but this feels different. the songs don't get it out, and the words are not there. when i feel like crying, i can't. i don't hate myself anymore, but i don't really like myself either.

i'm tired of death, tired of hate, conflict, turmoil, gossip, anger, manipulation, lies.

there has to be something better than this.