I feel shattered in multiple ways, yet I try to persevere every day. I've grown bitter and isolated, fatigued by humanity, yet bound to it. So, I seek solace in solitary activities like dancing, playing, and immersing myself in nature, hoping the healing waves will wash over me. I am harsh on myself but hope that one day everything will fall into place harmoniously. I push myself harder to bring about change and find peace, no matter where I am. However, I don't seek sympathy, as I'm tired of the constant coming and going of people. Instead, I'd rather chase butterflies, crawl with lizards, climb with monkeys, and fly like birds—free of the need to impress or create for anyone.

God forgive me, I've wished not to exist too many times, but I won't take my own life because I believe it's cowardly. So, I'll face the ebb and flow of pain and peace, love and fear, and everything else life throws at me. I'm not running away, but I'll find my own quiet spot on a mountaintop to feel every day until I have no more days.

I've called myself insane, but I'm told that I'm loved through all the misery and shame. Break me a thousand times, God, if you need to, so that I may either be rebuilt into a glorious light or fade away like dust. Life is both a gift and a curse, as everything is temporary, and many of us are lost. We've collectively created this world of masks and shadows, false hope and deathly hallows, but there's more to it all.

I've glimpsed it in a dream, but it was just a passing scene. Now, these words I've typed will fade into history as a mystery, but they mean everything to me and nothing to you. At the end of it all, I don't know what I'm saying, as I'm using a language taught to me by other beings lost in this world of mystery. As a child, I couldn't speak, yet I felt everything. I long to return to where words don't exist, and the wind whispers calmness. I'll let go of the mental prison built over the years, allowing my imagination to soar, and always remember that I'm free to fly.

These tears on my ****** skin,
Tears from your ****** sins,
Tears from the words that won’t leave my mind.
Tears from what lies behind.

Deep cuts from within,
Deep cuts on my skin,
Deep cuts down my wrist.
Life is so brisk,
I like the risk.

They say, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones,'
But they're the ones who always had homes.
'Words will never hurt me,'
So why won’t those words stop replaying in my head and let me be?

Deep cuts on my thighs,
Deep cuts from your lies,
Cuts from what I've realized:
People are evil in my eyes.

Your words tore my heart, and I my skin.
It’s the only thing that alleviates the pain.
I felt it cut into my soul.
I reflect what you have said—your sins on my skin.

And baby you can pretend it doesn't bother you, go ahead and try to numb the pain intertwined with her. But you and I both know she'll never be enough for ya.

These words are combined in a line to express how I feel at this certain point in time. I'm in a realm of darkness where the sun doesn't shine, trying desperately to get out, but I feel like I'm leaving myself behind. I feel like I'm wasting time, but time is an illusion, and if that's true, then it took me no time to come up with that conclusion. I can't seem to grasp the concept of reality—if thoughts create my world, how in the world are they coming out of me? I guess I just live life to the beat of my own drum, 'cause I'd rather face the music than be fearful and run.

(gulp)

Couldn’t resist a minute more.

Relapse.

I again…

After six months sober...

Here.

In this pain I know all too well.

Ten years lost to this drug my veins ache for.

First breath in the morning and last thought at night, all consumed by it.

Every cell in me craves it.

That physical euphoria my body portraits.

Feels like someone has poured pure joy into every single muscle and fiber of my being.

It makes me feel so content

Every single bit of me is singing and buzzing with life and love.

It's like the ecstasy of *******— that first blissful, pleasurable pulsation of endorphins and serotonin.

This is what I feel when I first take LOVE.

And then...

And then, the honeymoon stage is over.

Fights erupt.

Never-ending debates.

Miscommunications.

Misperceptions.

No trust.

Accusations.

Lies.

“I’m done...”

…

Again, it feels like a part of my soul is leaving my body.

Again, sitting here numb.

A toxic love...

I’m addicted to,

And there’s no way around it.

It’s already deep intertwined with my veins.

Yet, no matter the toxic, tragic event that happened before, I sit here, and I want nothing more than to spend my life next to this soul.

To see his eyes unchanged as the skin around it wrinkles and grows old is what my heart will always desire— to stare at those eyes for the rest of eternity.

Dead air…


















So here I’ll wait, until you decided to come into my life again and repeat this déjà vu.

I found out two days ago that he's in a relationship with her. YES, HER! The one I poured my soul out to. The one I called a friend. The audacity.

I don't care that he's in a relationship at all; I don't. It's who he's with that bothers me. Not in the physical aspect of the whole thing, because she's inferior to me in that sense—lol, conceited much? But in the principle of the whole situation.

She has been in our relationship for the past year; she was there for me when things were falling apart, helping me pick up the pieces.

Honestly, I've spent so much energy on this over the past two days; I'm exhausted. I've tried to wrap my head around the whole situation. The end result is FISH.  (**** It **** Happens)