Healing

It’s still hard, but I’m still alive, somehow. The grace of God is overwhelmingly steadfast, but I still miss you. I always will, but I know I will see you again.

My mind is vacant, having kicked out the previous tenants, I’ve decided to take it off the market for a while, I don’t have a good feeling about it being occupied. I threw away my last blade today, which is good I suppose, less temptation, more healing, less long sleeve shirts. I still can’t face the facts, but I’ll have to one day I suppose. Living “in the now” seemed to be healing for a while, but the reality still remains, and I’m left with a bittersweet memory to keep me company. I felt alive for the first time in a while today, instantly that was taken away, but it’s alright, at least I know I’m still alive. I have now become more neutral than ever, but, as it is neither bad, nor good, it is still to a certain degree, “good.”

I try and plant my feet on solid ground, but as soon as I take another step it’s as if everything falls out from under me. But luckily now I have a safety net, I didn’t even ask for it, it just showed up, out of nowhere. But I have to go now, I have to distract myself from myself for a few hours, at least. I know you’re doing well, I’d lie if I said I wasn’t jealous, but I still miss you, and I am still being selfish about this. I love you, I miss you, I’ll see you whenever I see you.

does it ever go away

the pain still lingers day by day
if only for a moment, I smile, but see
the truth in that smile isn’t me

I’d found ways to take away the pain
but nothing comes easier than this selfish disdain

But I’m only in this danger shortly
This “darkness” rushes swift but softly,
like a lingering thought that won’t release
I come to terms with this fact:

that I may never find peace.

Alone and still the time can pass
but only as slowly as sorrow lasts
The bitter cold in my aching bones is a comfort
saying

you’re not alone

you’ll be at home

the tears will dry and our tattered rags are sewn

but still

I can’t seem to shake the ways my hours have turned into days and the bittersweet suffering that my desires amaze struggles to battle what first set my heart ablaze and I question my creation and my creator, thinking what if there was nothing after, I push it out and walk away but still, yet still the end of the day I find the broken heart that was left in the dark before we ever met but this pain doesn’t come from simply being upset this is deeper and this is darker the reality becomes only starker from dusk till dawn my heart doesn’t belong here this world with it’s fear no longer sheds a single tear but what follows is silence

A deep crying unto deep that doesn’t settle my soul

only sinking further and further into what I can’t control

or at least I don’t think I can

the honesty of my idle hand is found within an object of my own suffering

The truth is, I know, this is no way to live and so I’m faced with this opposition and I have no more fight to give, so my will is weak, my sleeplessness peaks and I still have this selfish shred of hope to pull me through. What kills me most is when I forget about this promise, as if you never saw this, that you saw me, in my weakest moment.

This is my cry out to you my bleeding colors shining through, no matter how dark the night can get the sun still rises in the morning and I’m tired, so tired, of waiting.

And this prose lacks commitment due to the versatility of resentment and a cluster of pick and choose emotions that populates my existence, I’m telling you dear I can’t make this any more clear, not even to myself. My lies are all books that I hide upon this shelf and never touch them again like a dust ridden keepsake, and I feel that I mistake every chance I get to make this world brighter, and still selfishly I want my burden to feel lighter.

I can’t begin to change when I can’t see my goal in range or have a plan or a plot to remember what you forgot; My soul cries out and somehow my heart remains stout as if there is some kind of way out and I try to believe when all I feel is this decieved broken thought that still just hangs around while my crooked teeth are grinding down.

No, this is not me, this is me, this is not me, this is me.

Persuing recursion with unintentional regard has brought me back to “oh, life’s just to hard.”

But I can’t keep doing this, the same restless feeling that never wanted me to live is waking me in my sleep and shaking me, but please keep this in mind, these efforts, aren’t mine, the personification of anguish and sorrow is just an emotion that I seem to have borrowed; And this is how I push it away, this is how I try to live, day by day.

Let’s see how today goes.

“I don’t see my own faults for what they are”

When the spring arrives, and then the summer sets in, and winter comes again, I still won’t be seeing you. I am trying my hardest to understand how one gains a will to live. I’m barely alive, but I am alive. I’ve been doing it again, wearing a mask, forcing a smile, becoming something feign. My regard for life, happiness, and self-worth other than my own is so much that it has become hard for others to bear. I find myself getting upset with other people so often for dictating how another should live. I have become a dangerous person to confide in, it seems; When someone comes and says “I don’t feel like doing ‘this and that,” I respond with an honest, “Then don’t.”

I can not think of anything without being reminded of you. The way you slip into my thoughts is both a comfort and a curse, but it is one I am fine with never being dispelled of. I’m never going to break that promise.

I am constantly reminded of why I only trusted you, the moment I place my trust in someone they instantly decided that it is their place to dictate my existence, how I should be dealing with things, the things I should think about, the way I should act, the music I should be listening to, the air I breath, and what I do with my body.

I listened to that song you sent me nearly a month ago, the one by Vanna, that I had no intention of listening to then. The one that I simply said “lol stop being scene” and closed the tab. I listened to it, and with everything else I come to understand that I should have, I could have, been a little less selfish. I could have understood what you were trying to say.

When life seems impossible, remember that life is the most valuable thing you have. Do not discard it as if it is nothing, even when it feels like nothing is what you want most.

Reading your last words was harder than I could have imagined, it brought me back to a time when we wanted life from what was undeniably broken. Being uncertain of outcome in a desperately undecided situation, you had us strive for greatness in a dark moment. I remember the disappointment, the heartbreak, but also the mild release, the weight lifted from our chests. I am digging deeper into my heart, trying to understand where I could have seen a change, but I’m just pulling out cobwebs and folded maps and letters of a hope abandoned before it was given a chance to flourish.

I am trying to be “better,” whatever that entails. I am trying to take a step in the right direction, but new things arise and I cannot help but feel more brokenhearted than before, and my hope lies in knowing that the pieces can be mended.

My walls have been torn down. My foundation is weak and lies in dust among uneven ground, but I will rebuild this if I must, and I will do it brick by brick.

Our broken ship is sinking, the waves are beating on broken boards and beams. The mast has tilted and our sails have torn. Ropes have snapped and our rudder is lost. Our compass has lost it’s needle and our wheel has thrown us off course, but we are still close enough to swim to shore.

O grim death, where is thy sting. Shall I pluck your most blessed flower to enrage you, then would you be swift, and press the poison into life, purging a dimming flame?