Watching your muscles ache from the stress in your back, waiting for bones to break from the weight of what you lack. I would spend all of my time helping you find truth and it really cuts like a knife knowing I can’t save you. Cause saying good bye hurts the worst when you know it’s the final word. It comes across like a curse and I can’t believe you said it first. So now the final word on the final page of the final chapter of this narrative we made is my weak conscious whispering words through my mouth, the very words that I prayed would never come out. I kept clinging on to the past hoping the future would be the same. Cause we would cry and laugh knowing the past would not remain. And I would argue with God, every night I would lie awake and lie to myself, hoping all of this was fake.
God, this complacency has numbed me and this numbing has scared me back into the deep end. I’m slowly learning how to learn from something, and realizing that the only thing worse than feeling pain, is feeling nothing.
I tried to capture my emotions on paper and was told I was misdirected, but maybe my mindset has been infected by this pain-infested re-appropriation of the comfort i have developed with negligence. Part of my heart followed me when I finally moved out, but I still feel most connected to it when I go back home.
The most sense i can make of this world has slowly transformed itself from being ink in my pen to being the pain in my heart and my head. I never meant to write words that would make people feel like crying, I just never wanted to write a single word where I was lying.
I have slowly tapped the brakes of working and pushed my foot down on letting go, and somehow, I still don’t know if this method is even working. I just pray that people can find hope in the stories that I’m telling.
Now that the winter storms have had their way with my sunshine, I feel like I don’t have anything left. I feel like I can’t believe in power without that intoxicating reminder that this could all be another thing I’m believing just because I’m sick of feeling empty and alone.
Or maybe I am just once again resorting to my pathetic need to over think just to feel like anything real is happening. And having to cover every base without any blind faith just so I can know that I’m not acting out of my impulse to do things to benefit me and me only. But then out of nowhere, when I finally feel at peace and make sense of all these things, it’s in that moment I miss everybody who ever loved me. But somehow, the weather feels more sunny, and the water in this river keeping my mind watered is finally running, and flowing, and livestock is growing, my heart is showing, my heart is glowing. So why do I still feel so lonely? Maybe because the words i put on paper are not filling up my heart and it’s still empty.
This pain may not be escaping, and I may still be hurting, but that’s okay because at least I’m living and I can see that some day, it will be ending. Even if it’s not today, I know I’ll be set free. So forgive me, I’m usually more encouraging, but until then, promise you won’t leave. My heart may feel empty, but every time I tell myself I’m alone I know that I’m just lying. Because even though my heart feels empty, the walls hold photos of beautiful memories. If I hurt so bad now, I guess it’s just a friendly reminder than I’m still breathing.
It’s been overwhelming and exhausting. My last words for you until we meet again are juxtaposed to a set of emotions that boil over with no consistency or reason. It comes and goes like a cool chill from a heavy breeze against rosy cheeks. Reminding me of the life I have and the life that would have unfolded had it been different.
Hopefulness came in a pretty package, and, oh my God, I wanted to open it. You were like a letter sent to me from the world. And one of these days, I’m going to see what it holds. I can just imagine the stress being torn open with that envelope. But if you can hear me, next time send a post card, something that doesn’t need to be concealed so i can see your words for face value, scribbled out on the back of a place I wish I was, with you. Hopefulness was still in the cards, and I fought the fact that it was going to be hard, but i never was superstitious enough to believe in fate anyway. Or luck, for that matter…or hope, I suppose. Disappointment has become a revolving door. You never ripped out my heart, but you ripped out my core.
It’s a terrible statement, but I never let it leave my side. That sickening realization that I’m done with this fight. Moments kneeling on the bedroom floor sickened by the entity I had absorbed, no more. I would not let the self-scrutinizing endeavor endure a precipice, a monologue, questioning my every motive. My disaster stricken heart feeling broken, my emotions quoted spilling out a broken vase taking the place of what was once your emotion. Diluted with tears, an open book scribbled with fears, engraved pools of ink, I’m vocally shook. And I’m tired of telling myself that it’s going to change. Taken by the spectacular lie that existence can end. False-hoods predicted, my sins dictated my every decision. An exit of sorts seemed logical, cause I thought I could silence this breath. But contrary to my mindset, I circumvented my threats to silence the demons singing songs in my head, whispering in my ear, that ending it all is a safe bet. comforting me as I try to manipulate my end.
Those moments when I decided I couldn’t handle this anymore!!!!! Feeling like this love i had once found had been torn open and left broken in the cold- that the seams holding it together ripped open and my flesh tore open with that is I pray that my breath would stop, and as I held those staining memories I held on so tightly. Remembering what life used to mean. Selfishly ready to embrace the fact that I am weak.
But then I called to you, and I hoped someone would find me…and I found you, and I had hoped someone would call me! Cause I’m listening to these echoes of my own voice leaving damage in the cold, as I feel I have grown to the point where I can snap. A point of knowing I could never go back, and it’s in those moments I felt most alone. That I told myself no one was there for me…and little did I know, love was sitting right beside me, I just wasn’t listening. At this point in my life I don’t know many things, but I can promise you this- you are loved completely.
But if there’s one thing I know about myself, It’s that I don’t know anything about myself. Cause you were nothing more than a choice I had to choose, and my hands are not clean, maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you’re ready to be and ready to sleep.
I feel like they just conspired together…
THE WINK, THE WINK IS KILLING ME.