“All life lives on if we’ve ever loved it…”- Secret Door, Evanescence. An unexpected painting. Recycled a card board box…
A Life Enough
But not alive enough
Falling completely and with all love
I’ve long stopped trying to reach above
The sick and quiet I was spun from
Another bone slammed against an edge
Why hurt me when I can simply hurt myself?
You get into everything and become all of me
The only reason not to live I know I’ll ever need
I submitted a few songs to an actual songwriting forum and I’m totally convinced now there is a huge separation between why I put together songs and why the rest say should be the reason. I couldn’t believe how much time was spent piecing apart- finding flaws- in songs I intend to leave as is. Just like with my paintings, when I say I’m done there is no going back with the brush to ruin what was meant to be left alone. No matter how awkward or ugly/scary it may seem.
It was my mistake to think I’d actually find support in going that route, but when you hear nothing more often, even the worst hurt is welcome. My world is falling apart as I type this- wondering how many more weeks I’ll endure a job that’s crushing me in all ways. Stop trying to survive it. Stop eating- suffer dehydration and wait to drop dead somewhere between coming and going. It’s a plan I already have five days in on. Others tossing me their two cents of what I “need to do” is not a way out. That kind of understanding is not real. So I will stay quiet as I have been. It’s all easier when you know the end is near. That’s always been the motivation, just stringing me along. Years over done.