Bruce, not Batman

A time may come where I no longer need myself. It may be in a passing moment or in a staying presence. The days where I can feel free of my own self maybe a distant facade, meant to taunt me from afar. 

I've spent this day feeling my hatred for the inner monster percolate. I don't know what to say, or even how to say. I'm stuck in a mounting hole of depressive yet hopeful thought. I feel myself wanting for absolution only to realize that my ultimate absolution lies in the eyes of someone who's view of me had already been so damaged, so broken that I may never see that day thru. 

Last night my body finally ejected years worth of pain and anguish into the world. It was like feeling myself die twice by my own sword. What I'm becoming and what I should've been are getting no closer. It feels akin to a wanderer in the desert searching for a shangrila. 

I feel hollowed and void. I feel completely upheaved, in a way that I don't know if I possess the tools to combat. I don't want to turn to drugs and pills to help. I don't pity myself for using liquor to round the sharp edges of what I am. It's become something of a ritual for me. 

Disassociate my mind from my body and maybe, just maybe I'll feel human for a period in time. I can feel all of those demons lurking just beyond my reach, lying in wait for the gates to open up once more.