It writhes up inside like a hurricane that diminishes every part of your sanity.
Fingers being pointed making you the bad guy.
Judgements from others making you someone you not.
Turning you into a monster that you never were, that you swore to never become.
Faking your life, your personality, your disposition, your words…
All for what?
For nothing.
I know who I am.
I like who I am.
I love myself.
Why should I be targeted by those who feel nothing for even Themselves.
The man who’s wife died, who got kicked down by someone who reminds him of me, is the same man placing those toxic energies onto me.
Assumptions and assumptions …
People not knowing what “minding their business” is.
Rumors , lies, gossip…
The story of my dramatic life.
It’s not my energy, it has nothing to do with me.
As I need to remind myself everyday.
Everyone feels threatened by my light and wants my light because they don’t have their own.
I can’t handle these toxic energies surrounding me.
I need to get out.
I need a place to be….
ALONE
But to whom?
Detach myself…
It’s ******* with my whole agenda.
I need to get out.
I can’t take it anymore.
Give me my privacy…

I can't help but fantasize, daydream, lose myself in my imagination...
I love it but I hate it.
They only beckon to thoughts of you.
My feelings are everywhere.
I feel you vibrating through me.
My senses are on fire and thinking of you only makes them higher.
My soul, my energy, my mind...
It's all on you.
A distraction that I want, a distraction that I am immensely contradicted by.
My dreams are a whole other world that I escape myself into.
Down the rabbit hole I go, but I like it, and I won't deny it.
Hallucinating on these illusions that are my reality, only to awake to face these suffocating terrors called life.
With my feelings on fire, guess I'm a bad liar.
You're on my mind, and I'm trying not to think about you.
Baby, I miss you.

I sit under the desert breeze,
under the tall palm tree pondering,
who I am, what I want,
  what I need, where I want to be,
      why do I live, why do I wake?
the desert sand on my toes, a slight reminder
  of living, a brief sign of my humanity,
        a simple touch. . . with no answers. . .
I am alone. . .
    not even my conscious answers.
          I miss myself. .
Why am I alone? why is my heart scattered
   upon the questions unanswered
          pondering; lack of living
                     I want to live; not p̶o̶n̶d̶e̶r̶

Who am I to become?
What am I to be?
Where do I go now?
What is left for me?

Who do I have besides myself.
A washed away face of waste and misery.
Alone on a path, I feel defeated, left to rot, thrown out.
Evil monsters lurking everywhere I go, every corner I turn, faces that haunt me, taunt me, hurt me, forbid me, tell me what I am not.
HUMANS.
Cold and remorseless, petty mindless beings with no sense of realism, depth, purity.
Nothing, all reflecting of dark shadows that they themselves cannot even face.

Labeled, by superficial beings who think they have the right to know me and get into the secrecies of my life.
You know nothing of me, how would you?
I don’t want you to.
Stay away…
Let me lurk, an unknown shadow cursing your name.
Fear me because you fear why you cannot see, the unknown, the inner dimensions of life and death itself…
I see it all.
I’ve felt it all.
Dreaded myself for pain, only to be reborn, over and over and over.
An endless cycle that I am forced to go through, like a 90 year only waiting on the hospital bed for death to take her away.
I’m tired, I’m done.
Every inch of my soul, my mind, my being…
Has become nothing.
I have nothing left.
Left nothing to become.
Dead everyday,
Waiting for the grim to let me sleep eternally.
However, karma is my own debt, and for eternity, I have to suffer.
I am defeated
**** me/…
I’m already dead

With anger there comes clarity.
Not during it, no.
After- when you can see past the hurt.
And you can see you’re not at fault
for the pain they intentionally cause.

I’m not the right flavor for you.
My love is shown a particular way-
I give you reassurance,
you consider it babying you.
I ask about your day-
tell me I’m simping.
I want to call-
and you say I’m annoying.

But then-
I change those habits,
And now I’m a walking red flag.
You molded me how you wanted me,
But now you want the original again?
I’m sorry, but you don’t get that choice.

If I were to try again-
I would change a few things.
The first being my silence as a child-
when He molested and ***** me.
The second being my maturing-
I was forced to grow up too quick.
The last being my habits-
If I had never self harmed,
I never would have become addicted to it.
That’s it. That’s all.