Outsoul

I'm worthless, useless, stupid. I really can't do anything right, can I? Oh yes...look at the little girl, so brave when she has easy things to confront her. So sure. So very confident. Look at the little girl. All alone against the darkness. All alone.
Look at her crumble and fall.
Little swirling wisps of tender flaking sanity falling away against the real challenge.
Crumble, crumble, crumble.
It's so simple, apparently. So easy. Just a little problem, give or take a few. Nothing to worry about.
Just those jagged, bloody slashes of ineptitude. Of blatant ignorance and stupidity.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Why am I so stupid?
Why is this so hard?
Oh wait, it's not hard. I'm just an idiot. Right. I forgot, you see.
Easy to forget when you're an idiot, when you make staggeringly moronic choices. When you turn down offers. When you let your dreams dry up into nice, gray husks and concentrate their powdery ashes. And taste those ashes with every pale, dead breath.
Moving through a world of gray, with a dull gray mind thinking dull gray thoughts about gray and gray and gray.
Touch me, hold me.
Oh God, please hold me.
I can't do this any longer, this illusion of sticks and wires and smooth, dead thoughts.
I need the glimmer of reality again.




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