Life goes on uninterrupted. It demands your attention and gives nothing but scraps of painful treats in return.
I got no reasons for living, I don’t have enough to die. A stand-still place, my life. A complicated creature that found it fun to visit me, to weave a candy in my face and say: “Come with me!”
Too many want you to be perfect, to have only them as friends even though they treat you worse than a chewed gun stuck on a shoe. My friends…I barely know what that word means or how it’s supposed to be connected to me. They, just like life does it, demand utter devotion and attention but in return, they are not friends, but enemies….or perhaps… that’s all you’ve always been to them even though you tried to consider them friends? What’s the point of even knowing their names, their past, their present, their every second when they simply do not care?
I know how it feels to have your friends stomp on your heart, if they were your friends at all. I also know how your supposed boyfriend(s) could make it yell in happiness and moan in sadness when they squish it to pieces, after it’s been already turned into crumbs.
I know the feelings, the thoughts, the tight smile when your closest people view you as nothing more than something that shouldn’t have enough opacity to appear in their paths. Why would they want something they see as worthless? Why would they choose to like you and feast upon your goods when it’s so easy to drag you down, to make you feel fat, dumb, bad, a failure, an accident, a thing they can barely stand looking at?
I’m afraid to love even if now I’m doing exactly that. I’m afraid to feel even though my whole left side aches, screams, twists, kicks and demands a bandage, or perhaps death. The pain it’s piling up and then sends surges into your very veins, your very lungs, your very ends, till you feel nothing no more, yet everything at once? Do you feel that?
There have been points in my life when I felt as if suicide could be my only escape. I only considered the idea but never tried it. I knew that, even with all their faults, there’d be people that’d miss me, that’d cry and perhaps, in all that pain, their own candle could run out. I wasn’t about to risk that for years of me trapped in the mud, with them crying a small distance above my head on why I was gone, why I wasn’t there, why I didn’t choose to stay.
I couldn’t do it, Can’t do it still!
With so many things happening in my life, I feel that it had no purpose nor do I believe I’ll find one soon enough. It’s as if my existence is an altar of sacrifices, compromises, promises and empty words. As if I have no purpose, no reason to get friends, to chat, to laugh, to smile, to sleep, to die, to survive. Nothing but emptiness.
I’ve wiped my board way too many times. I choose to trust a future that never cared about the bright side, that never really bought anything but more empty promises, more pain, more weight to a patched heart. But I went on somehow, I dragged my feet along!
If you’d ask me what hurts the most I could simply tell you: “All and everything yet nothing that should have you concerned.”
I hold no hurt to measure, no pain to count on petals, no love to feel anymore and, at the same time, I hold them all
It’s as if my whole core knows love as a drop of hurt mixed with a mustard-colored care that does nothing more than be there... for when someone says: “I love you!”….That way, I got something to say in return.
I can barely feel love. I’m forgetting what love is. I’m unable to remember or to grieve.
And yet I’m still alive and try to maintain that status. I didn’t feel allowed to even let my irises see the sun in the morning or at noon, depending when I wake up. Or perhaps, when I go down since I can hardly sleep sooner than 9 AM. Last year of highschool, last bit of rocky oceans, last push…still wide awake, still hungry, still empty, still feeling asleep.
It’s funny how many times I asked myself “Why couldn’t everything just work out for once?” whenever one of my relationships ended. Got 3 so far…I think, I hope. They died out, because of me, because of them, because we weren’t them and they weren’t us and our thoughts were all that never flew across. Or maybe it was something else…
One relationship did work out…Not in a relationship way. Were friends, were okay, we are exactly what we are meant to be: good friends. And that’s more than okay with me. :)
And yet, when I do manage to cry as my eyes tend to usually be quite dry, I feel as if I’m silently screaming and kicking and shouting and yelling and fighting…but I do not know what for.
They plague me, silent soldiers of the night, ghosts of the day. They tear my string-held-heart open and run across my lips.
Yet they bring no comfort. They deny me such and if they do allow me, it’s usually at the worst of times….I need them on the ready, ready to come down as curtains from my own two cried eyes.
And yet…they cry inside more often than they do outside. They rain inside me as if tiger claws burn my jaw, my eyes, my lips, my temples, my hands, my feet, my back, my tummy, my chest, my everything. And yet, they deny me time.
I always loved to help others. I always loved to be there for those others…I always disliked doing too much for those others when, in the end, those others did nothing to me than being the worst they can be. I’m not someone to kiss people’s bums, I’m not there to make them happy by being their bully toy, I’m not the blame donkey nor I am an antique temple of endless patience.
I’m me, and that’s who I shall always be!
- The woman of no masks yet plenty.
- The daughter with no secrets but many many empty promises stored in a jar from mom and a disgusting creature of a dad.
- The niece of 2 perhaps awesome people even if one, most of the times, prefers to bring me down.
- The niece of 2 people that got two children and have been my parents, just as the others have.
- The cousin of two children (one 2, the other less than that), which rarely sees their faces because she’s bad with handling kids.
- The friend that’s always there for plenty till the time comes for them to be for me even a fraction of what I tried to be for them. Then, they don’t exist.
- The lover of so many that they’d been only 3, one nice and friendly and my safe refuge, one with a cruel heart yet sweet appearances…and another one who I am yet to know what I’m supposed to be for after so long time alone
- The day where my smile felt wide enough to tear my face apart and scream to the world: I found happiness, I found my soul and another found mine,
- The last day I existed in your eyes. Perhaps I was long gone from your heart. Too early, too late?
- The day I’m somewhat alright, somehow fine. Tears cause headaches but that’s fine.
And the cycle repeats, every time…
Life is far from perfect. There’s no such thing as roads, turns, valleys, mountains, sadness, happiness…no stand-alone events. Instead, it’s full of dangers, of fake rewards and cruel punishments, no matter your input.
It’s something that I never felt graced by. In Life’s eyes I was a sinner of no-known crime…And so far I survived somehow, someway.
The hourglass is threatening to turn, but in which way?
I couldn’t end without addressing a personal message to someone who I can always call, even at 3 AM and yawn with till sleep gets the best of us:
Thank you, you that you know who’s that You! I wouldn’t dare to crack a shy smile today if it weren’t for you. So much to be sorry for and just as much to feel gratitude towards. You are my chained martyr that always rains soft whispers from above.