Time is nothing but a reminder of everything that never worked; a calculated remembrance of all the pain I've felt.
But I guess that would make time everything, because nothing ever works out for me and all I know how to feel is pain.

This shallow, thorough, emptiness caresses my body in ways I've never known from another human being.
Wrapping it's cold hands around my throat, begging me to stay.
I've been blindfolded and tied down by the things I should have forgotten about years ago. Turns out I've found peace and love in such discomfort and despair.

There is no point in trying to escape the tightening grip of those cold hands, because if we're being honest, I like the feeling of being held down.
To escape it all means I'd need to fight off the ties we've built around my hands and feet, leaving all of my scars and bruises out in the open for the world around me.

If that blindfold were to come off, I'll have to face the world head on, seeing first hand why I've allowed myself to submit within the darkness in the first place.
Time does not move forward, it must go back, because that's the space in life in which I know my navigation better than I know myself. That's where my emptiness began, and that's where I lay naked and vulnerable to only my own mind.

So I will stay, right here, tied down, grip tightening more and more with every breath I take. And I will continue to be held together by nothing more than my own memories and sadness inside of these dark droopy walls.