I was in a very dark place. For a very long time. 

My sanity is out of the question. 

No shed of light. No dreams. No future. No life. 

A rotting corpse. 

No happiness. No anger.

No motivation. No power. 

Insanity had consumed me. 

Thus I became my insanity…

Insanity is me… 

And I, insanity. 


Hit Play. 

You can’t hit pause on your life

to make a guest appearance in his;

The truth hurts, baby, 

But, so does letting everything you’ve worked for fall apart.

My Final Trigger 

My chest is aching.

My mind is racing.

The tears are pouring.

It feels like it will never stop. I want to cry for help,

but the words do not make its way out of my mouth.

It’s killing me slowly.

The kind of death that claws at you from inside out,

Until everything that is me, has been destroyed,

And all thats left is the feeling of your weight pushing down on me, restraining me.

But it ended…


I went home.

I scrubbed and scrubbed until my body turned a light shade of red.

But I still felt you on me.

I wiped the foggy mirror,

I looked at my body.

I glanced at my wrists,

At the scars I’ve inflicted myself with.

It’s nothing compared to what you did to me.

I looked myself in the mirror, eye to eye…

At that moment.

I lost myself.

The Shooter is Me

Life is punitive and cruel.

Life is also grandiose and beautiful.

I can’t help but be enraged with how my mind is strained and pulled at from both sides, by optimism and pessimism.

Do I love life or do I hate it?

Do I want to live or do I want to die?

I cannot decide.

Fear of making the wrong decision has me held at gun point – only the shooter is myself.


I fear that I may never be good enough for you. 

If I lack something, I fear that you will find it in someone else. 

I will never be at peace. 

Because I’ll never be perfect, 

I’m far from perfect. 

But not that far from you being taken away from me.

Behind the Name

When I decided to start a blog, I was thinking of making it anonymous for the time being. Therefore, I needed a page name that meant something.

I didn’t take me very long to come up with INCONSPICUOUSLYME. The word inconspicuous means not clearly visible, being unnoticeable. Not only did this word give me an ironically anonymous name, but this word was the first big word I started using.

I generally was not one for literature. However, I heard this word on a kids cartoon show, when I was much younger. The show was called Maggie and the Beast. My little sister loved watching it and I would watch it with her. When I heard this word, I was shocked, not because it was a big word, but because I understood what it meant! Shortly after that, I started reading and writing more.

Quite frankly the word inconspicuous maybe even changed my view of literature. As silly as it seems, it meant something to me.

That is the story behind the name.


This is the beginning of a new chapter. One of which is not in order to forget the past. This is how I heal. This is how I embrace the past, live the present, and dream for the future that is yet to come.

And so, I will write. I will write and write… Until I cannot write anymore.

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