This Inevitable Everything

I closed my dream to face another empty bed.

Life's a cigarette burning down to its last drags. All good feelings, all that makes me happy, it's all just emotions in my head. None of the beneficial things I do help the world; they exist only to help myself and to help other people. Is the point to my existence really just to keep myself going through the smoke and the fire, through the good things and the bad, in hopes that I might make someone else's experience a little bit better? That something I do, that I as an entire being, might give someone these same good feelings that eventually fade away too?

I closed my curtains not to brace the collective instead.

These good feelings, they're nicotine highs with longer effects and less direct pain. Every one of them still leads to some negative consequence, if not for me then for someone else on this harbour. Every emotion fades, happy or sad, and as much as I try to fight it I inevitably drift back into that... indefinable state between. That default mental state, that default "emotion" or lack thereof, that default way of looking at things around me. I hate it, and everyone else does too. It's why we want to be happy so much, to try and prolong our business trip away from stagnancy. I say it's the sadness I fight, the depressions and the disorders and the symptoms thereof, but even those are better than stagnation.

I closed my door on the harbour's blue and red.

That stagnant state of being is to a human what a lapse between fags is to a smoker. The cravings for another drag of emotion come soon, except at least cigarette cravings come with less frequency. At least cigarettes put their cards on the table, at least tobacco's poker face has long been uncovered by societal conditioning. Emotions colour experience, and I let them dictate my purpose.

I closed my suitcase with intent and bled.

The end remains the X factor. Both emotions and smoke lead to the same result: To pass away from this subjective balancing act, to give up the game and leave the social club. What's out there for me? That's not my question to ask. It's my destiny to discover, but hopefully religion got it wrong. Hopefully there's no more life to lead. Hopefully there's no more plates to keep spinning.

I closed my noose and kissed the burning bride in my head.

Hopefully there's only one P.T.-branded cigarette in my deity's lips. 'Cause I don't have it in me to kill myself twice.

I closed my eyes to the benefits of smoking unsaid.

Benefits
Written by DJay32
TheFearMythos2013