The Haze

The haze of the fictional word I've been living in is clouding my vision. I hear murky voices of people who do not exist inside my head. They keep me company, these nonexistent people. I create and solve their problems one after another. I laugh as they laugh and weep as they weep. They are an intricate part of my being, perhaps even made from pieces of myself. It's hard to leave them when reality comes knocking for their absence leaves me feeling lonely and lost. Without their conjured identities and persons, I have next to no one to accompany me in the long hours. As physical beings let me down time after time, I have come to regard these characters in my head as family and dear, beloved friend. Not only the auras I create but those created by other brilliant minds and trapped between pages of parchment and paper. Daily, I linger among them. Laughing with them, talking with them, admitting my flaws and awaiting their advice. Some might think it silly to commune with the voices in my head by they seem to have provided me with ample supplies of ingenuity. No one around me understands my desire, my need, to be accompanied day and night by these people. These voices. These figments of imagination. For they are no more tangible than a thought. Yet some how, without hands and fingers and breath, somehow these creatures have touched me. They have left a mark deep in my soul and have a special spot in my heart. When I am hurting, they hurt with me and in my joy, they rejoice along side me. It is both a blessing and a curse to have feelings multiplied in your heart by the number of characters who have ingrained themselves in your mind. But yet, this is the mark of something greater. The mark of someone willing and able to create and mold people out of thin air. I am glad to carry the burden of odd looks and whispered criticisms as I converse with those living in the cobwebs of my mind. I find joy in expanding the room inside my head so more can trickle in. I long to forever live in the haze of this fictional realm of life. It fills me with a greater sense of purpose, and that sense of purpose, sense of identity, sense of reason is what we all search for in the end. 

I Am...

I mourn for lost friends as one might mourn a lost love or a lost life. I mourn the loss of simplicity. I mourn the ease. I mourn the joy I found in the little things. I mourn the people I used to know that have gone and disappeared.

I resent the changes. I resent the fact that they've become what they swore they wouldn't. I resent their blaming me. I resent the fact that I'm the one left to pick up the pieces. I resent the facts that they move happily along while I cry myself to sleep.

I am confused. I am shattered. I am hurting. I am scared. I am alone. I am terrified for my future. I am in desperate need of someone who knows how to do this. Someone who knows how to manage heartache. Someone who can teach me to turn cut into callous. Someone who can help me build these walls and keep the pain out.

I am mourning, grieving. I am angry, resentful. I am lost, and in need. I am a fragile birds nest ripped apart by the howling winds of time. I am in desperate need of repair.