The dissociation of oneself with another is the result of spiritual and emotional exhaustion. Distance is created by lack of response. What once held meaning is lost to the mystique of one’s mind, of bonds severed. How do you tell illusion apart from reality? You don’t. You turn around and leave. You stop walking on blades knowing that it will only bring you pain, and words spoken without warmth, absent regard of feeling.
You turn away, from the stranger. Only a fool latches on to his tormentor. So free yourself from shackles. Bear it no longer: dagger-tongues, stone-cold glares of an lifeless automaton.
Fucking give up. You don’t need to put yourself through this. You don’t need to understand why. Why: this goddamn word that so enslaves us. Why are driven by the need to know? Pained by its very resonance and implications?
Leave this retarded place behind. Let people turn to ghosts, things to dust. See them fall and exit your world. See them dead. So you’ll be alive again. So you’ll live.
It is the only way.
You don’t have to care.
Save your sorrows for something else, something worthy. Let ruins be ruins. Let time erase the wounds. Divert your attention elsewhere, to happier thoughts and things more valuable.
Not this. There’s nothing left.
What’s nothing left?
Turn. And look on this barren land no longer.
It can rot with its pathetic self.