Dark Despair

The air is still and dead, and the empty house is flooded with a pale yellow glow, my desperate attempt to repel the darkness that clings to my very soul. Sleep eludes me once again, and I find myself growing increasingly restless, wandering the vacant halls aimlessly. The night has become strange and unfamiliar, and the moon is no longer the friend she once was. I fear I am going crazy from the broken thoughts crowding up my mind. The amber light soothes me slightly, but still I cannot close my eyes and drift into the great vacuum of sleep. It is on nights like these when I crave some small measure of peace that I turn to the bottle, and wonder if it is worth the risk to swallow all the colourful pills that I hoard for just this purpose. I can feel the walls around me rising once more to shield me from the world. My eyes have already reddened, and my mood grows steadily darker. If only there was a way to rip my pain out, and pull these insistent threads from my mind. I'm tired of questioning my purpose in this life, I'm tired of delving into philosophy to explain my driftings and why I feel this way. There are days when I drift through the motions of life, feeling as though the world is one big illusion and wondering when the Magician is going to end his show. There are nights when I can't fall asleep and hit the replay button on my playlist and drown myself in my mind. There are times when I need people to validate my existence, to pull me out from the pits in life that I always manage to fall into. I am tired of living an empty life, waking up every morning to conform to the expectations of a society I have long detached myself from. I'm tired of struggling in this web of deceit, lying to everyone so that I can come home, close all the doors and windows and make friends with the shadows. I'm tired of everything, I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being unable to sleep. The minutes tick past on the clock, and I find myself hating the instrument that has enslaved humanity. I'm tired, and I'm weary, but I don't think I can handle another bottle or a fistful of pills, however pretty they may look. How do I exit this play I've been forced to act in? How do I call for a timeout when I don't even know why I'm playing this game? I find myself questioning the theory of existentialism on this dark, endless night. Let it go on forever, this blackness that mirrors the colour of my soul, let it take me from a world I was never meant to live in in the first place. I'm tired of being unable to express the demons that torment me from within. I'm tired of having to explain that the world without drains even more from me. I'm tired of everything and everyone. I'm tired of holding out for something better, of waiting for someone to come along and save me from myself. I've stopped writing for a long time, stopped caring for even longer. Maybe tonight, when I clean out my supply of pills and drink, my heart will cease to beat and my demons will lay down their pitchforks and allow me to rest in peace at long last. I have passed through this world and its people like a shadow, brushing lightly against the souls of purity and innocence, souls so different from mine, and I know that when I leave, the darkness that surrounds me will erase me from their memories. For some, this erasure has already begun.
Of first times and final moments.