Is this it? Is this missing piece The dancing in the rain, The everfading pain, Is this it? Oh for what is this new feeling that I didnt realize I missed, And the feeling of what it's like to be kissed Oh the joy Is this it? The end of the puzzle The end of the search The end of the pain This is it isn't it? This is happiness
I only ask you to listen. My mind is a prison. I feel imprisoned. My past is not something I want to reminisce. It hurts like a clenched fist. I dismiss it. Let it free into the abyss. I'll give it time but this won't define my life. So I craft my own demise. Consider this my afterlife. I am still alive, but who that girl was, has died.
i try really hard not to cry a lot. and i try to stop myself from thinking about anymore sort of losses. and i try really really hard not to realize the loss my dog is more hurtful than the loss of my late grandfather. because, there's a difference in-between spontaneity and fore-told doom regarding loss. there's a difference between having someone on my bed every night, and the loss of humanity that Alzheimer turns you into. i don't know which one i'd rather choose, another 6 years of knowing they aren't there anymore. or another dead dog.
i just can't i dont even know what i can't anymore. this is just too **** ******* much emotion i don't know how to handle it. i've spent so long being a shell that being filled with anything but emptiness is confounding and not understandable
she watched slowly as her mother came later in the night and her father no longer came home after work and her sister sleepover at her friend’s house and her brother lock himself in his room the thumping of the bass vibrating both their walls and she saw as no one showed up at their weekly sunday brunches. or when no one was there for breakfast and no one showed up for dinner and she never saw her sister anymore and when she knocked on her mother’s bedroom door in the morning there was never a response and she missed it, she missed sunday brunches with her family and no one missing out because her father was the best cook in their family and when she baked cookies or a big coconut cake for just the five of them on friday nights, because the were watching the james bond movies or the lion king series all in one night and she missed it, because now on sunday mornings she got takeout from ihop and sat at the table alone glancing at the clock till it read 1.00 and then she picked up the other four plates and washed the clean plates anyway, and on friday nights she’d bake a cake anyway with no one there to eat it.