a million pieces

“this is it…” nothingness engulfed me as the overwhelming waves of redundancy and comfort swarmed my conscience. “something is lost…” I was too caught up with myself, the things that I was doing, and I eventually lost it.

somewhere… sometime… something… 

“it is too much effort to care anymore.” I sighed as a plethora of worth-while information. Fear too joined in to grip me away from attaining more in life. There were too many, too much to take care about. Inferiority struck another chord with fear, working together to tear me apart into smithereens that I could not even recognise.

Standing singularly in a world built with the fragments of others, seeing through the eyes of an engross dweller, I was reluctant to make a move from my spot.

As time coruscated through my eyes, I realised that I had been parochial about my own decisions.

Everything was good.

But, no.

I did not know what was good anymore.

Eventually, things turned awry, fast. I peered down to the ground to look at where I stood, I saw the remnants of dust, nothing that I could be in the know of. I tried to lift my hands up, but I knew I could not do so, I chose not to anymore. My consciousness shouted right into my ears and dwindled into at the back of my heart. I knew I was choosing the things that were nice to me but not good to me.

I was not in control of my choices anymore, my attention was splintered into a millionth of a fraction. All I wanted was restoration but I knew that I chose firmly and unconsciously for my life.

“God…” voices and distractions started to overshadow my intrinsic thoughts, the real me was shouting out loud but I simply ostracised it with the banality of life. I have and had this voice all along, I tried and tried, but I want to try until I can get out of the shitstorm that I had created for myself.

I want out of my own creation. I want to regain myself from the depths of temptations and distractions.

The real me stood up, cloaked in scars of time, proclaiming, “God, I am available.”

Craving for more? Down below:
Too Good To Be True
Selling Away My Birthright.
battles, distortions, me.
How to Build Momentum
Losing Momentum to Inertia
Oh, hi March! (March Goals)

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

10 thoughts on “a million pieces

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