I Just Can't Take It Anymore

The air is thinner than a ruffle chip, those sold in humongous bags that epically fail in their message "man, such a big big for only two bucks?"; it is so palpable that you could just rub it between your forefinger and thumb, and it would tear straightaway. The air is silent and the whirring of fans seems like the noise that helicopters make; yet, you still feel hot and frustrated. There is no outburst of agony nor anguish nor plain fury here. No. These emotions are simply sealed in a bottle and someday, when you're unaware the seal will loosen a bit, in the darkest abysses of your mind, and haunt you. The contents of this bottle will dominate your mind, your spiritual being, and will go on to affect the future generations living this this meaningless fast-paced world.

Years later you visit a typical psychiatrist, but deep down, it's oh-so-clear to you that you are simply wasting your time, paying money with plenty of zeroes in it to these fat men who are actually merely highly-educated con-men, but their ronald-macdonald-like smiles help to cover the fact that all your "therapy sessions" are made up of obscure six-syllable words that these con-men like to use, partly because of the pompous clout it gives them, partly because they have earned the right to do so. Your conscience knows this but you simply want to fool yourself that i-really-want-to-break-out-of-this-vicious-cycle and maybe telling yourself don't worry this is all part of the healing process and I must persevere with this and boy oh boy I would have transcended it by the time my bank account has half the money there should have been, my depression is already more or less solved and i can go on with my life being a happy person, and you purposely overlook the fact you must take a daily dose of god-knows-what.

The air is still and there you are, typing furiously at the computer, your glasses slipping off your nose, your vision is blurring, but you cant stop partly because you are afraid of the teachers' might, and partly because your parents will start their stupid interrogating again when you try to sleep. Oh look, you can already hearing them complain and lament at their misfortune of having such a lousy son. It pierces your soul but you just shut the **** up because you know that would make matters even worse, but in your head you are crying and screaming in hurt and pleading for them to shut their trap. I've got goddamn problems of my own without you exponentially increasing my misery, I've been slaving my ass off, working till the wee hours but you just don't try to understand and simply assume that when I come home late it's because I was gallivanting at some mall while I've been doing assignments just within a damned breadth of the deadlines I'm just a slow learner and you know it yet you send me to a elite school and complain that I'm wasting your money. I've had so few hours of sleep and it is a struggle to stay awake, let alone subject my ears to your hurting words and abusive tone, and you drop another bombshell and my world is fading my vision is blurring once again, the fatigue can't defeat the fear and i just feel like completing my work just for the sake of it and the kid typing furiously at the computer, silently crying, you can't think anymore.