Psychic Numbness

I think after too much shit, your mind and heart just numb themselves. Kit's words have never left me all these years. "It's the end, Faiz. You've lost. You don't deserve anyone, and you'll always end up alone." I tried desperately to locate him, but his skills at vanishment rival mine. He scarred me badly, so badly that I thought there was no way I could feel pain again. Maybe I was wrong. Of course, it always hurts when someone leaves. Through reasons I may never understand. I opened my heart up to Phoebe yesterday, and I don't want to speak of these topics again. No family. No religion. No music. No piano. It's fine, because I'm not hurting, am I? I walked the corridors again last night, and there was this faint humming echoing throughout them. My swan song, perhaps. The numbness I feel is a blessing, be it from the alcohol or some unknown reason. I'm going home today, but I will not speak to him. I am in the eye of the storm. Let the world whirl and spin around me. Let it rage away, but I remain untouched for today. Just one day. What did I do wrong, Kit? All of you who have left or are still in the transit area, tell me. For you I'd bleed myself dry. This time it's no longer the little girl I see sitting with her knees drawn up to her chin, watching as the flames encircle her. It's me. The rivers of fire are great, deadly serpents that hiss and snarl as they swirl around me. And as the picture solidifies in my mind, the same unsettling calm falls upon me. Perhaps it is the calmness of the damned, because there is no hope left. Dawn is stealing up upon the world. And yet another day begins. The monotony...the loss. I am a master of illusions, and in this final performance, I will not fail. The show, as Queen so famously sang, must go on. In my own little kingdom, I am the puppetmaster and I pull all the strings. I've broken one of the few I consider sacred, and my fingers are bloody as a result. I will not trust anyone again. My parents, my family, my friends, my alphabets. Their knowledge of me is fragmented, and perhaps it is better this way, because then they have less ammunition to strike me with. I won't open my heart up. I can't. Not anymore. I am inherently dark and cautious, and I believe that there is no hope for those condemned. Salvation is merely a word, and it will not be given freely. I cannot alter the way I am, and I don't want to. My darkness gives rise to greatness. I'm going home today, to play my final farewell to a dream I cherished so, but one that ultimately dies under my twisted King Midas touch. My magnum opus, my piece de resistance. It has to end somehow. It is now seven, and I plan to leave at eight. There is no sense in pining away for something needlessly. I can't have it, so that's it. Kit taught me a very harsh, but fitting lesson. In his own words, "You don't deserve anyone." S'right. I don't deserve anyone or anything, and while I have every right to be angry at my losses (plural, by the way. I lost more than one cherished dream) I have to realise that in the end, I'm just another mortal trapped in this miserable plane of existence. What spills out from me onto this blog will not taint how I appear in person. Because the blog is one of the few ways I can truly express myself, and I will not say it in person. And I regret opening up these few weeks. It was all in vain, and I feel terrible about it. I will not speak of this again.
I'm sorry, R. I didn't get the job you wanted for me. Dawn is here. I've slept through the night like a babe. I've tried, really I have. Fought tooth and nail to keep it by my side. But it just can't work, and I'm saying my final goodbyes today. The numbness, as I've said, is a blessing. I'm just so tired of people leaving, even when I've given them what they wanted.