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You have to look at it from the right perspective. If you were in this situation, what would you do? It’s difficult. You look, you listen and you like, but from a subjective viewpoint what do you do? It could be made easy, or it could get harder. I can’t find a way of escaping it. It’s there, it doesn't go away. You can put up a front and hope it doesn't show, but you know all the time it’s there, burying deep inside you and soon you get to the point where it shows. It really does. It thrusts itself through you and out into the world. You’re exposed. You can’t hide. Everyone can see the glow, the way it runs through your head, the influence it has on you, but you have to decide; do you let it out? Or should the question be, can you stop it coming out? I think no. Some may think yes. Others will shy away from answering because they’re in this situation. It’s not as simple as to hit the nail on the head with a one word answer because that won’t sort it. It won’t put a dent into the predicament. No one can hide it forever. You walk ahead because you know if you don’t people will see it. You stay on your own so no one can hear it. You’re terrified of somebody liking it.

So you primary objective is to stay on your own, be alone, no company, no family, no friends and in this you think you’ll succeed in escaping it. But you realize, isolating yourself just makes it worse because you yearn for it more and more and it’s too late because you've already done the damage. You've shunned everybody off for it. You've exited the world for it and so in a contradictory fashion you've ended up feeding it. Growing it. Looking after it. Keeping it pure, which means it gets stronger. You can’t run or hide. It’s there inside of you. You can’t keep it but you know now that nobody will take it.  You sit wallowing in your own self-loathing knowing that you have kept this from everyone and now you have no one and you just wonder why you couldn't have just accepted it and shown it instead of adopting a front to avoid it. You start to look back at what you could have done, what you should have done, then you look at what you have done and you realize you couldn't have been more wrong in your actions. You have made the situation worse to the point in which you can’t stand it. Your chest pains, your eyes water, you want to run yet again.

So you try and escape the loneliness and the shallow depths of your self-pitying due to a wrong that you have caused and you hope that you can re-escape what you were feeling. Now no one wants you. You got rid of them and so why would they want you? You were the same as everyone else but now you 
couldn't be more different. You’re locked away in your own cocoon hoping one day you’ll evolve into a butterfly that can once again enter the real world, with real people and real emotions. But it doesn't happen. Time passes on and you’re still lonely. You can try to associate yourself once again with society, but who would want to be your friend? You transformed yourself into a hermit. You’re in a different place to everyone else. People don’t know if you’re alive or dead. You feel empty because there’s nothing to fill the self-inflicted void within you. No matter what you do or where you go, no one see’s you. You are there, but no one can tell. No one knows your name. Who are you? What are you doing here? What is the excuse for you sad existence? That is what you hear from the people who accepted. The people who coped. They managed, they showed it and they are proud. They have partners and families and friends. They go for drinks in crowds and dinners with mates and they enjoy life and live it to the full.

You sit day in, day out, hoping that one day the phone will rings to bring you some form of salvation. But your desolate institution of nothingness 
continues. But it changes. It isn't what it once was. You become bitter. You see the people having what you once had and you envy them to the point of disgust. So in a never ending pit of despair you retch at the sight of affection and you bleed from the once active veins in your dried up and dusty physical presence and you know that this isn't going to get better. You've given up the scraps of hope you used to have. You feel like ripping shards out of your body. You want to tear the very skin from your bones, ripping out all the tendons and ligaments just so you can breathe. Claustrophobia sets in. You’re so alone. It feels tight and dark and quit and you can’t do anything. You’re trapped in your dull, grey world where the only affection to be had is memories, but the memories disintegrate as your anger and hatred at the world pulse and grows, engulfing your entire existence, maliciously devouring your inner sole, tearing at every organ, crushing any hopes or dreams, manically screaming inside your head till you can’t take it anymore, It’s so quiet but so loud, you’re alone but in your head there are many of you, all screaming, all shouting, swearing, asking why you did it. Why did you do it? And you can do nothing but accept this. You couldn't accept what was there so now you’re forced into accepting what isn't and you know it’s the end, you’re old but you’re young. You've wasted you’re life and so it reaches the point in your existence where all you can do is cry and fear. Cry and fear. Your life is not a life; it is a parody of a human, a fixed point in time but nothing more. You could have made this so easy but you made it hard for yourself. Lay down. Sleep. Never wake up. There’s no reason to. You are ending. This is ending.