I wish I didn't see.
That hollowed tangible emotion emanating from them.
the missing link that we're all feeling.
I wish I could un-see what I've seen.
I want to destroy what I know,
remember, and can't forget.
My mind replays the images.
my whole being drives me towards anger.

I wish I could let it go.

It'll hurt, to forget.
Forgetting feels like an omission of truth.
I'm an all of nothing kind of girl.
all or nothing…
So I won't forget, and I can't forget it.
It hurts, but it's the sweet bearable pain of truth.
It's the cross borne by those with eyes wide open.
My eyes are…..wide…open.
I can't stop seeing, and feeling that hurt, pain, and suffering.

I wish I could pretend it wasn't there better.
I can't
My eyes are too open.
I can't un-see it. I can't get rid of it.
I can't release.
Dear god…If only I could believe in something else.
If only I could believe in the good as much as I know and trust the bad.
I don't.
I won't forget because the bad things are more real and raw. Their truth tangible and cutting to the quick.
and I just have to see it all with eyes wide open.

I heard the rain hit hard against the concrete.
It pounded, while the thunder raged.
The sky was dark, and the stars were visible.
The moon shone brightly,
Yet still the heavens poured out their frustrations.
Yelling and crying, striking their warning with lightening.
I felt the roar reverberate in my chest and looked forlornly at the sky.
Will the storm never ease?

I was angry once.
Oh, I was…so ******* mad.
I didn't shout all the time.
I didn't stomp my feet and rage.
No, I took that anger, that frustration and
I let it build.
I cooked it, slowly over a fire,
let it boil over until I couldn't take the pain anymore.

   When it came out, it was soiled and *****.
Dark and thick from sitting so long over that fire.
I felt hot all over all the time.
Tense as my fists clenched over and over
I grew harder to manage.
I needed a release. I wanted to scream.
Oh but that wrath, felt safe.
That dark inky mess kept people at bay.

     I was quiet, until I couldn't be anymore.
I let that anger build, and spill out whenever.
I didn't recognize myself.
But I couldn't bring me head up over that boiling liquid.
It needed to evaporate. It needed to disappear.
It took me, a whole year to expel the wrath from my blood.

  It isn't gone. Don't make that mistake.
Most will tell you it has. But it's all lies.
The wrath doesn't leave. The boiling water, didn't just evaporate.
My problems weren't just magically healed.
I'd doused the fire, but the coals still flickered to life.
When the water began to boil again. I took the pain.
I learned to **** the pain inward. To redirect that anger.
My wrath turned against me.
  It didn't go away…..
Instead of hating everyone, and getting angry. I just hated myself.

I'm not skinny.
     I own that.
I'm not outgoing.
       I know that.
I'm not always right.
      I can see that.
I don't always say what I mean.
         I'm sorry.
I apologize for everything. If I could I'd apologize for the world itself.
      Someone has to right?
People always see me differently than how I truly am.
      That's mostly my fault, I don't want you to see my scars, my hideous thoughts or behaviors.

I'm never taken seriously.
   I like being under estimated.
I feel more pain, than I'll ever let anyone see.
    I don't believe in sharing pain. At least not really.
I'm afraid to let people close.
     Who isn't.

I don't always wear pretty clothing.
      I like being comfortable.
I rarely use makeup.
    I don't need it. Truly.

I like the quiet.
     I'm a reader and a writer. I don't say much. But I love listening.
'Fake it till you make it' is and always had been what I live by.
      I usually come out better equipped to handle things by doing that.
I'll probably only ever love one man.
    I'm not picky, I just know what I like, and how I am.
My love is like my loyalty, friendship, and trust, it's binding.
      Break it, and I'll never forget or forgive.
I love truly and fully for as long as I can.
    I wish I could tell someone everything.
             I...

We Call it, true love.
It lifts you up.
It blooms  bright crimson on innocent faces,
lightens the complexion of many to a satisfying glow.
It sears into your brain a feeling of safety, comfort, and
covers yours eyes from the glaring reality with secure rose colored
lens.
   True love. It eats away your fears, caution, and reserve.
Tears down the adult and returns you to a state of childlike wonder,
trust and utter devotion. Once you return to that state it's almost impossible to climb back down from that incredibly heightened state.
To regress back to an adult. True love doesn't make you forget reality.
It provides a pleasant distraction from it.
  We'll remember all too well what realities we've face before it, and what we'll return to it after. Like children we wish to hold on to the hope of lasting love, lasting…true..love.
    It sounds bettering saying it slowly. Savoring the words 'true' and 'love' together. The word 'Lasting' being the icing on the cake. Yet, it becomes darker.
   Not everyone is worthy of love, and not everyone needs love or at least thinks they do. We call it, being realistic. Realistic thinking is a true love killer. In our hearts we should harbor a secret wish, one never said allowed but understood. "We want true love," that should be in the breast of every man and woman in the world.
    I wish it were. We are feeling creatures, and that's because we're human. Humanity is all about feelings, experiencing, hurting, burning and yearning. Companionship, friendship, lovers, lusts, affairs, divorce, it's all describing the complexities of one simple word, we call it, Love.