I can’t go back,

to see the corpses of people I hurt,

 to the chaos laid ignited amidst the red dirt,

 I laid,

in the barren desert,

 I made,

to when I ignorantly trod forth from the debt of my sins,

to where two sisters sat in a hospital din, 

mourning what was nearly lost,

and then

screamed “why would you leave us!", at him.

I can’t go back.

 to the time where there where no responsibilities because I didn’t have enough energy.

Like someone sitting in their own living room,

 shivering from the cold because the thermostat won’t turn on,

and when asked,

he says he forgot to pay his bill,

but in reality he just couldn’t afford it this month,

 because what little he did have he spent on frivolous thrills and delicious pills

He hoped would leave him fulfilled

but in reality it just left him ill,

and cold.

and I can’t go back,

to a time where my existence was a space without stars and galaxies,

a vacuum filled with black fallacies,

a vast expanse where I floated in a mindless trance,

and out of the entirety of that euphoric infinity millions of miles wide.

There I was.

and I can’t go back,

because there I was revolving around a precarious, pinpoint, planet called depression, 

where the only task I had that day was to make myself self destruct,

I was a suicide bomber from a terrorist cell tasked with demolishing an entire civilization,

named myself.

I had no time to think of other people,

I had no time to think about what I’d leave behind,

I had no time to think.

I had a mission.

Yet on other days I had all the time to think,

because that’s all you do when you’re alone,

you think.

And I can’t go back,

because when I fought the thoughts climbed on my head and ripped fragments off my skull forcing their way in, 

like robbers breaking into a church through a stained glass window,

soon they didn’t need to force their way through

it was easier to just open the door with a smile accepting their lies as true.

and I can’t go back,

because the absence of responsibilities soon became an addiction,

where my train of thought always stopped at the station called disassociation,

and stayed to escape from today.

and I can’t go back.

because some days I want to.