This maze is so empty. It has been for a very very long time. I don’t think the last visitor stayed for very long - I wouldn’t have too. Not when where I call home, this labyrinth is just so dark.
You’ve been trapped here for a very very long time. You can’t remember the last time you were free to explore anything straightforwardly - it’s not your fault. The labyrinth’s all you’ve known, dropped here as a child you were left to
fall further deeper into uncertainty It’s not like you had a choice. It’s fine though. The rusty walls and constant cries of a voice so similar to yours not yours could be yours becomes familiar. Homely, in a sense. You find a few dried dandelions and hang them up on your wall. You prefer roses. You like the blue. You prefer pink. Despite that nagging feeling that maybe that voice is someone you should listen to, you ignore it. And fall deeper.
That voice becomes your friend, in a way. Your only friend. For a long time, it’s just you and me and the company of the minotaur. You try not to think about him. He’s the other screaming voice in the background, but most of the time it’s bearable. A hit or two is nothing You’re here with me. You’re here with me. That voice, your only friend- is so different from you. But who is it, but you? You’re everything I’m not. You’re quiet, blunt, cold, straightforward and miserable. I’m happier than you. It’s easier if I navigate the labyrinth, isn’t it? I can handle it. You’re too sensitive. You take turns. And you dive deeper and deeper ㅤㅤㅤ
Most of it is miserable anyways.
Most of it is cruel anyways.
Ever dreaming to taste the sweet nectar of morality Allowed my heart to hold enough love to be broken
It’s not like you’re a pleasant person to them You’ve never been very good at being kind It’s always wrong. I’m here to be kind for you. In the way everyone wants. Does it hurt? That I’m loved more than you. That the few people who stumble here in with me sorry, us. It’s not like they’d know anyways- prefer my company over yours? What’s there to like about you? I’m everything you’re not. You think you could be kind, if they just gave you a chance. If they were able to take your blunt exterior and maybe just listen for one fucking second.
I’m back in the labyrinth, and every second I’m here fucking sucks. Every time I think I leave, every time I think maybe I’m free from this fucking place, it sucks me back in like a hole. A constant, yearning empty fucking void inside of me, inside of this labyrinth. It takes, it takes, it takes, I keep giving and no matter what happens I fall deeper and deeper And sometimes people lend out a hand, and I take it, but I think I know I’ll only make them fall in the end. Here with me. I don’t think you can bear it, can you?
I can't.
I can.
"The books I read Told me there is hope as long as I live Faces of you Is that what you call a "muse"?"
It’s not like anyone’s loved you anyways. Just go back. you want to go back, you want to be that easily lovable facade of a human you once were. because at least you felt loved, even if it was fake. even if you bottled up every unappealing aspect of yourself deep inside, because lots of people loved you. people don’t like the labyrinth, don’t let them see it. they like you when you’re easy- and that’s what i am. Maybe one day they can. Don’t you think so?
They've lied.
Is it fair to assume all of them are?
Why not assume? What have they done to prove otherwise? Everything. They’re in here with me, they clawed their way through the walls. They say they want to see the Labyrinth.
Just let them love us for once. Please. I think they can, all of them. They say they want to. I want to be loved. I want you to be loved. Can we please feel loved? Just for a moment?
I’m here. I can be loved for you. I can love you, for them. They love me. They might not like us.
I understand. But can you consider, just for a moment. I think they’d like me. They say they do, when I get to be there. Please, just for a second. Let me be loved. And let me love. ......whatever the fuck that even means.
For the longest time, you weren’t sure you knew how to love. It was a whole hassle and a half, you googled definitions of what love meant, you tried, and for a while, you even said you didn’t. It was easier that way. It’s not like love ever helped anyone in the end. Those who were supposed to love you in the past lied about it anyways. Love wasn’t meant for people like you. Those deep inside of your own head your labyrinth, of your own making Somewhere, you think, you can be loved. Somewhere, you thought, maybe they’d want to grin and bear it. The burden of your love on their shoulders, like a selfish fool, you pretended you weren’t cruel. You let yourself love again, even after all of that. Then all of that happened.
“What do I know about love? How can I recreate what I've never had?”
WHO FUCKING CARES. IT DOESN’T MATTER. WHY ARE YOU SPENDING SO MUCH TIME ASKING IF YOU ARE WORTHY OF BEING LOVED IF YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE. LET YOURSELF HAVE A CHANCE. LET US BE LOVED. WE CAN’T BE LOVED IF YOU HIDE US.
unmasking sucks because people may find you unappealing, unpleasant, uncomfortable and generally bad to be around. and you might want to go back, you might want to be that easily lovable facade of a human you once were. because at least you felt loved, even if it was fake. even if you bottled up every unappealing aspect of yourself deep inside, because lots of people loved you. but, what they didn't tell you is that people might love you anyways. they might even think you're nice to be around. people might actually enjoy when you're a person. they might enjoy who you are when you're unappealing and unpleasant, when you're sobbing and wailing and disgusting and everything that makes you think you're unlovable and it'll feel better than anything else ever has. because they love you. and actually you this time. not who you tried to be. i think they mean it. something to keep in mind.
Your self sacrifice is exhausting. You can’t deny yourself everything. If you deserve one thing. It’s this. Okay? Okay. Okay.
Only your time passes by And from my eyes the oil leaked Tell me why, tell me why, tell me why, tell me why Tell me why, tell me why A malfunction Only this time I'm smiling at your side To know that I would someday be gratified So here I lie in our imperfect paradise A eulogistic lullaby
fin.