Capetonification

It's weird how things work.
Despite my unconscious concerted effort to do otherwise, my life continues to move into what our society terms as a "ordinary".
Ordinary.
It's a big word that.
It means a lot of different things to a lot of different people.
A piece of prison ass finds that tearing sensation in his pooper to be ordinary if you want some context.

To me, it's the promise of suburbia.
On the outside it looks good.
Got the wife.
Got the car.
Got the beautiful kid.
The house.
The dog.
But there I am, in the dark, undermining it all. You can't see it.
I'm too good. But I'm there.
Stocking the fuel for the fires that will eventually consume the foundations of this beautiful life.

I don't know when I stopped being noble.
I don't remember when lying became a way of life for me.
I didn't see the moment I lost my faith.
I couldn't tell when I became a traitor to everything I was raised to hold high and holy.

Someone asked me the other day if I was happy.
All I could say was that I didn't wake up every day wanting to kill myself.
"Well, I'm not unhappy." I said nonchalantly.

I don't know if I can stop this journey I'm on.
Don't know if I really 'want' it to stop.
I'm not helpless.
I just don't want to be helped.

I've built this life up too high.
When the walls come down - they're going to kill me.