All these years I was afraid of addiction to something consuming me, when really I was afraid that I would lose my soul. 

When I started falling from happiness I thought I would never be happy again,

so I started to prepare to numb myself by building walls inside.

The foundations of insecurity breed hatred of the self,

failing to remember my soul, inability to feel the things the way that they used to be.  

Because I knew that everything was going to die, and back then, I never cared until I found something to live for…

and lost it. 

So close to adulthood, I thought if I ever lose myself, there would be no end to the pain,

I have lost myself and somehow each day I feel I lost more and more, 

no one wants to listen to these words full of hurt and pain,

and all the people who don’t care about me are all the people I have ever known,

but they should know I was not always like this.

They read me and think I’m a pessimist but each day I only write and speak what I see,

I find little hope because applauded happiness is laced with pretence and lies, 

and I can’t fight the fact that I hate all those lies that we speak to live. 

Life, for most I assume, begins with joy and wonder, the womb of possibility.

Though I seemed to feel great sadness then, I had the capacity to feel even greater happiness.

Is this numbness going to destroy me? 

Because it seems that while the wheel is turning, I feel I am moving nowhere. 

The sun is shining on me but my skin is still cold to the touch and I am afraid of the winter to come,

where the sun doesn’t stay long, and when the coldness is a blanket that haunts me of those memories locked in songs.

 I will begin to freeze again but not in numbness but absolute horror, tangible terror and oblivion.

Those who listen to me mock me and their insults build the walls of my cage, 

when people read me and wonder if I am okay when all they see is an empty face.  

The wheel may turn and turn and I may never know what it is to feel again.