Oct 2016
Today, I poured tears all over my notebook.
Although my eyes are red-rimmed and I'd rather keep the journal closed, I'll share with you something I wrote.
I am dying. I am dying. Piece by piece, the pieces that were me are dying. They're going away. Everything that made me who I am is going away, it's gone. I can't keep it.
I don't know if I'm supposed to decide if that's a good or bad thing. Maybe it doesn't have to be either. But I can feel it. I feel it.
It's like tearing a tree from the ground. A big tree with a wide trunk that has been standing for so long, through every season and year. And now something, some unseen force, is chopping me down and taking my branches and leaves and roots away.
Everything that makes me who I am.
I don't know what to do. My memories are disappearing and gone. I don't want to be chopped down. I didn't want this and it's happening anyway.
The worst kind of torment is when you know things used to be a certain way and now you know they're different. When a certain time used to be something good and happy and loving and you took it for granted.
You were an idiot and took it for granted and now it's gone.
Now you're sitting here with your heart in your hands and you don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. Nothing makes sense.
I have memories and those hurt the most. Do you know how many times I've tried to say goodbye to them, to my memories? So many times. I bury the memories somewhere and they come back, they always come back and hurt me. Even the good ones. Everything hurts me. They hurt me over and over again.
They leave me over and over again. They left me so many times, I lost count. I don't even know if they were really here at all. Something inside of me tells me, no, they weren't. They were never really with you.
I feel empty most days. Like the tree that has finally been chopped down and left for dead.
Have I ever been afraid of dying? No. I've died many times.
I died when they left me in that desert, I died when they forced me to make a choice I didn't want to make, I died when she left in the middle of the night and never came back, I died when I had to say goodbye to my sister, I died when I realized that my love died out a long time ago and wouldn't return.
It won't return because the people I love are dead. They've been gone for such a long time. How long is a long time? It's longer than forever.
*They've been gone for lifetimes and won't come back.
Although my eyes are red-rimmed and I'd rather keep the journal closed, I'll share with you something I wrote.
I am dying. I am dying. Piece by piece, the pieces that were me are dying. They're going away. Everything that made me who I am is going away, it's gone. I can't keep it.
I don't know if I'm supposed to decide if that's a good or bad thing. Maybe it doesn't have to be either. But I can feel it. I feel it.
It's like tearing a tree from the ground. A big tree with a wide trunk that has been standing for so long, through every season and year. And now something, some unseen force, is chopping me down and taking my branches and leaves and roots away.
Everything that makes me who I am.
I don't know what to do. My memories are disappearing and gone. I don't want to be chopped down. I didn't want this and it's happening anyway.
The worst kind of torment is when you know things used to be a certain way and now you know they're different. When a certain time used to be something good and happy and loving and you took it for granted.
You were an idiot and took it for granted and now it's gone.
Now you're sitting here with your heart in your hands and you don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. Nothing makes sense.
I have memories and those hurt the most. Do you know how many times I've tried to say goodbye to them, to my memories? So many times. I bury the memories somewhere and they come back, they always come back and hurt me. Even the good ones. Everything hurts me. They hurt me over and over again.
They leave me over and over again. They left me so many times, I lost count. I don't even know if they were really here at all. Something inside of me tells me, no, they weren't. They were never really with you.
I feel empty most days. Like the tree that has finally been chopped down and left for dead.
Have I ever been afraid of dying? No. I've died many times.
I died when they left me in that desert, I died when they forced me to make a choice I didn't want to make, I died when she left in the middle of the night and never came back, I died when I had to say goodbye to my sister, I died when I realized that my love died out a long time ago and wouldn't return.
It won't return because the people I love are dead. They've been gone for such a long time. How long is a long time? It's longer than forever.
*They've been gone for lifetimes and won't come back.
