Accident-prone yet bulletproof, resilience courses through my veins. After plucking out the shrapnel from my own Hell-Bent self-destruction, all I was left with was me. Through embracing my darkness, I found the light. Here lie a sordid collection of POETRY, PROSE, AND REFLECTIONS on the traumas & triumphs along the way.
Sunday, November 06, 2011
Awakening.
The emptiness soaks in absorbing my body entirely, as it pulls my heart out; it is now obsolete. The security that would once surround me, left loneliness in its place, and has moved onto better streets. My sights were once set so high, now I watch helplessly as the only hope I have is to survive. It depletes everyday, bringing to mind the question of whether I will rot, and then decay. With too much on my plate, I realize I have taken on more than I can handle. The fear that fills me, burning stronger with each day, threatens to be my biggest scandal. In the water, I am beautiful as it washes away my sins. Purifies me like the divine, and reminds me that I am capable of achieving anything. Instead, I choose to remain in this morbid mundane stagnant state that surrounds me with the constant memories of all the things that I truly hate. Wasting away as I wear my heart on my sleeve every time that I go out, only to open myself up and be vulnerable, the thing I most need to do without. I cannot function knowing that I am the cause and not the cure, as I fade into black, my shadow remains pulling at strings to find something, or someone who will make it feel secure. The rock-hard stability that I seek loses its credibility as the hours turn into days and then weeks. I am an eternal work in progress, floating, hoping to catch glimpse of something that I can truly be passionate about. Yet for some reason, which my mind cannot comprehend, my insides tremble because of the repressed shouts. I am not hurting anyone but the future self that is to come, the one who hopes to meet an improved version of me, and not one that is just numb. I break everyday, yet somehow the pieces are not too difficult to put back together. I am human though, and fallible even on my most determined days. I refuse to admit that I was born this way for it would be inhumane for all of thus pain to be innate. I seek out the sun at the beginning of my day to remind me that I am still receptive, and open to love. The Hide and Seek moon at night lulls me to sleep, my goddess from above. The loneliness seeps in, injecting me with its apathy, that crawls under my skin. As I lie here counting sheep along with my defeats, with hands crossed in prayer, I patiently wait for the desperately needed healing to begin.
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