March 15, 2016
I feel like a bomb tick-ticking ready to go off, only without the always included count to say when. Instead I am simply like a live grenade whose pin has been pulled and been tossed into the black unknown waiting for the explosive light that is me to be shown.
I need to feel the slice of the blade melting through my flesh to expose my tortured soul. I need to see the blood drip-dripping to show me that I may be deprived of my conscience though my heart still beats. The dying crimson begging for air that it will never again receive.
Infuriated and frustrated with no excuse, begging for a resolution that will never come. I am undone. My hands with no bones even though I can type. Numb to a world I am not sure is there. Hidden like a stillborn and choking on toxic muddied air.
I don’t feel like continuing this brutal hard fight. It hurts the most in the dark of the night. I struggle to know the difference between wrong and right. I am surrounded by people and I am all alone, completely unknown, unwanted. Ashamed to not feel any shame at all.
I don’t belong here. Defeated and already gone far too long. I can’t remember what it was like to feel complete and it’s a game I desire not to play. What’s one more day? A future that holds no hope, a past that’s best forgotten and a nightmarish present that I can’t seem to escape.
That’s what life is – emotional rape. Where love is given and received while in reality its me being naïve, deceived. Can you believe and why should I? The false joy glistening on swollen lips, eyes begging up like a puppy wanting a prize only to be belted across rosy cheeks. Vulnerable, weak.
Tear stained cheeks and chains that only I can feel force me to crawl right back, promising to do better as the gag presses between my teeth to muffle my bratty cries. Am I your dirty secret or a naughty lie? Why can’t you answer me, why the hiding, the disguise?
I am sorry that you are the part of me that I lack. The rational that I cannot rationalize with on my own. The drug that fills my veins and keeps me eagerly awaiting my next fix, only to realize that the next high is never as good as the first and too much is an overdose I may not survive.
Withered, weathered, fallen like an unheard tree in a forest with no sound. Putrid decaying and the axe swings high, splintered dry breaks up the clear blue sky as I struggle to grip the edge of the jagged cliff while silently begging for the moss to just let me go.
Just. Let. Me. Go.
And the voice inside my head shatters my eardrums as it violently screams no. No you can’t leave, no you won’t go. No, I do love you. No, you are brave and strong and everything I need. No. No. No. And I don’t even crave the serpents slithering yes.
Life isn’t what I had expected. Not this tragic ending. I looked forward to the beautiful mess. My eyes are closed but for once I can actually see. The only struggle is, am I really me?