Honestly

All this time, I've lived my life in a way of solitude.
Lately, my environment is starting to notice in disgust.
However honest my words may be, they won't follow through.
I live this life, because I predict the rest of my life to be lonely.
I harden myself to such an extent that nothing bothers me anymore.
This however brings with it consequences, that I have only just begun to divulge upon.
Social ineptitude, making the wrong comedic gestures at all the wrong times, beating yourself up for them later.
Only when the mass graves of the world, dug for preservation of space, touch each other through the equinoxes and experience the searing heat of the insides of our world that can't surely be any better than her outsides, will I feel repaired. Whole, in four different ways.
One, physiological healing, my senses come back to me, honed.
Two, psychological healing, my cognitive and occipital abilities return to a previous state.
Three, creative healing, when I'll finally be able to do something that's mine.
Four, physical healing, my body ensured of its colour and texture.
I am an amalgamate of four different people. Hank Moody, Jack Black, Jack White, and Jon Cusack.