The good ones always tell me what eats away inside
Saying ‘Fall for the rise; give meaning to this life.’
The true self to find I have only lived to hide
I listen for the dying days within the flesh, the sore and pain
To hush away the cries
Possessed with every reason I am what I deny
Once enough has been given to all that you hate
You forget your one authority; you have the final say
And somehow I am never caught
There has always been a way
To escape my turn and the call of my name
Their cheap sell for all they see, a weak chain…
I’ve broken free; one slave not worth the chase
And far too far out of reach
An old painting I did a long time ago trying to explain how I felt.
I am not doing too well. The journal bit below is all I can come up with at the moment for the reasons why, silly as it is to even try sorting this out anymore.
I realize as long as I am still alive there will be some kind of hope within that I will not be able to ignore. And that is becoming the biggest problem of all now. Failure and rejection are not just “part of life” but they’ve becoming all I expect and it wasn’t like that before. Not the heated, angry and sharp form it’s taken, rolling around in my mind, disturbing my memories and being a voice to what was previously very dead and put to rest.
This goes beyond where I thought it ended. I can live as I am or die as I am. Change doesn’t mean a damn thing to me anymore, neither does hope nor love or family. Like a child in a place they shouldn’t have come across, I’m exploring where I’m not supposed to be. Too many poisonous fumes for me to breathe…glass shards to slip on…there’s a floor rotting through waiting for just the right amount of weight.
April 25th has passed. I should not have let that happen.