Have you ever woken up to the light tapping
of water against the porcelain sink and be sure you must be dreaming, for reality
can never be that mink. Stood in a line for hours, for the right to hold what
you've earned only to be told that’s not what we’ve learned. Have you ever
felt, destitute, lost in a city full of millions? With the loud scream of a new
born, loud horns blaring, but your heart lost in silence.
The therapist said whenever I got bad again
then I should write how I feel. Though I don’t know how it helps when all I can
think about is how perfect it would all feel to lie at the bottom of a ditch.
How i dream of blood, my blood, my tainted mess no longer tempted to live no
more. I am in a desert a spiritual desert, dying a thousand deaths with each
single word I sprout.
She also said I should tell someone, ask
for help but then how am I to ask when they call it 'a mind fuck.' Somehow
convinced that this tangled mess inside of me only exists as a cry for
attention. Somehow convinced that this tangled mess inside of me isn’t as real
as my tear stained face as i type out this letter.
In all honesty I crave not the attention as
much as I crave the promise of silence. The promise that this mess will one day
seize to exist, that all that will remain is a disheveled body and no longer
will i be forced to feel like a damaged outcast. Cast away by my lack of
ability to be normal.
They say I feel too much but they seem to
ignore how badly i crave to silence these emotions. Show me the button and I
will be the first to shut down all the piercing pain that cripples my ability
to be. To be or not to be? I am but a tainted mess of my own making, a painful
reminder that I will never live in perfect silence. That the love I so heavily
crave may not exist as far as the cry for world peace may never be answered.
How great would that be? If our prayers
were to be answered. If we weren’t surrounded by this decaying waste of a body,
chilled and lost within this decaying waste of a mind. In all honesty I may
just be crazy, I may be surrounded by nothingness and festering into an
unexplainable half cast version of myself. In all honesty I can’t tell what
thoughts are real and what are not, for all the voices in my head tread to fast
and I cannot seem to keep up. All I can tell is that the pain I feel is as real
as the unwanted air circling my body, keeping me alive to die another death
within my long lost unwanted soul.
All I can tell is my wish remains the same,
to one day feel the unconditional, irresistible, inhibited love of another. All
I can tell is I neither wish nor want to fight the long battle of sinners and
frogs in order to uncover a prince. All i can see is the blood, so will you
please pass me the blade.
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