Darkoshi

It seems like there is a core of sadness inside me. I don't always feel it, but its potential is always there, ready to erupt at the slightest thought when I allow it. Its mere existence inside me keeps any experience from feeling truly great. Not just sadness; also jadedness, alienation, pointlessness.

I don't even know where it came from, or why. I think there was a time, in childhood, before it existed. I remember it being there as a teen, but I don't recall any single incident that could have caused it. Maybe it built up over time. But why, if the same thing did not happen to everyone else? Other adults seem to get enjoyment out of being alive.

I am unhappy.
I don't know what I want.
I can't think of anything I would want.

I don't know what would make me feel good.
I can think of things that would make me feel bad, but not good.

I don't think BDSM can make me feel good anymore.
Does that imply it made me feel good in the past?

Short little spikes of feeling good.

But I don't think it can do that anymore.

My mind can't create the good feeling.

I went for a walk in Georgia once.
And scratched my sign by a trickle of water.

I went for a walk in Massachusetts,
and cried in the rain.
Or was it snow?

I went for a walk in the desert once,
but it is gone.

I don't feel about this
like I feel I should feel.

I don't like penises and scrotums and vulvas.
I still don't like them.

Maybe tonight I'll dream
a wonderful feeling.