The Noise

I don’t want to die, by any means, but I have not really enjoyed being alive, for quite some time.

I feel like I’m on a constant track, that deviates, in a sense, every now and then, but never to a place that makes sense, just to a noise.

I know that makes no sense, but this place, is a noise. A long, constant, deafening but quiet noise.

It’s a noise that wraps itself around me, demanding my attention, demanding resources I never had, demanding energy I don’t know how to give, and I try.

I try to give the noise what it wants, but it deviates, in a sense, always asking for something different, before I’ve even began handing over my offering.

I don’t want to die, by any means, but I think that’s what the noise wants me to do. I don’t want to die, by any means, but I think the noises that pull me in so many directions, until I’m hysterical and frayed, would like me to.