Dead to Me

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That fleeting emotion I felt is dead to me. The hope I held of any expectation is far more dead to me. The ability to trust again is dead. Anything but trauma after trauma is just spiritual death all over again. The ability to hold down a job is causing me to want death even more. So is the idea of a friendship, or any sort of relationship. Any ambition I have previously held onto is just a dark shadow that has ceased to exist long ago. The dreams have reached their expiration date and have reached their time long ago, they were dead all along. Any life I tried to prescribe to them were just lifeless masses of hope, waiting to be formally recognized as dead once more. The ability to concentrate on one thing at a time is just another dream, killing me softly inside. The prospects of a fulfilling career have all been lost to the capitalist motives of this country; the remnants of debt are interfering with my ability to function. A sense of purpose is all I ask for, but there seems to be nothing of substance to capture that. Any kind of focus is easily buried away by societal expectations and deadlines. The constant race to climb to the top is blurring any sense of direction to move forward. The ability to hold onto a moment of silence seems like an unattainable state, one which continually gets blurred by the notion of building an "American Dream". Any sense of fulfillment is temporary as we strive for more and more. And once I am greeted with death, these voids will finally be dead to me too.

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