Truth will prevail: MOET

How cruel one must be to make someone else feel that they are a nuisance? How cruel must they be to make one stop sharing what makes them happy with others, in fear of being overwhelming? how cruel they must be, to make someone feel a pit in their stomach whenever something good happens?

Do they even think about the days spent second-guessing each and every move one makes? Do they even think about how inadequate they make someone feel because they feel they are too much? Is it even possible to love too much? is it possible that one's entire existence proves to be unwanted? undesired? unimportant? One night of overthinking, yet another one. One night of bullshit filling one's brain, of worries clinging to one's guts...I'm tired.

The truth is known. The truth is felt deep within.
But sometimes it takes a while before it crawls back into one's brain.
Sometimes it needs a little push to quiet the demons.
Sometimes it needs a gentle hand to patch a wound, even if it's the same old one that opened up suddenly overnight. .. I'm tired.

The truth is known. The truth is seen.
the truth will prevail once again, perhaps at sunrise.
Until then...
Until then...

musings: True love

" I don't know how I feel."

Chaos. There is chaos in one's head. Sometimes she didn't know what was going on in her head. She couldn't understand the pain that was holding her in a chokehold. She didn't know where it came from, and why it didn't stop. She didn't know how to soothe the ache in her heart nor how to describe it.  Chaos, there is chaos in one's head and the dreaded emptiness that swallowed everything inside her. It sucked the joy off of the memories she had, emphasized the distress of other memories, and sent her body into an acute "flight or fight mode." Where did the danger come from? what kind of danger was it? She was blinded by everything she was feeling at once and nothing at the same time. 

"I don't know how I feel, and I don't know what to do with it."

Sometimes there is no answer. Sometimes the only thing to do is to leave it alone. It's to accept that sometimes you would not be able to have an answer to everything. Sometimes, it doesn't matter, at least, not when chaos is happening. She thought that the only thing she could do was to seek the company of those she loved and those who loved her too. Talking to them, listening to them, and allowing them to embrace her heart and soul was the only thing that could soothe her heart. It was the only thing that could silence the voices in her head, and chase away the fear that had crept into her heart. 

Love. Love...How could someone love her? how could she find her place in this world? Everything felt as if she would be forgotten and thrown in a bin because she was too complicated, or too hard to handle. Sometimes, it felt as if the people she loved would end up hating her because she wasn't the person they loved anymore... or she had never been loved to begin with. Parasitic thoughts! Overwhelming thoughts. How could she reach out to those she loved when fear crippled her? How could she reach out and ask for a hug when the only thought she had in mind was how much she'd bother them and didn't deserve their love. 

Sometimes she hated her brain and the way it kept telling her that she should just be gone, permanently, so at least she wouldn't be a burden to the people she loved. So they could have a better life.. because yes, her brain was not rational. her brain was not logical. her brain was... her brain was her worst enemy. the worst at decoding her emotions. The worst at listening to the truth. the worst at loving her. She was the worst for herself and shame and guilt made it way too difficult for her to speak those words. Perhaps, perhaps they would feel better if I wasn't here. perhaps they didn't miss me. perhaps they would cheer when I'm gone. Why would they love / me/? why would they care about me? 

And the cycle of lies keeps going. 

And the cycle of self-hatred keeps going.

And she's tired of this, tired of herself, of everything. 

But love... love keeps her afloat. Love, true love, saves her. 

Love.. true love is everything she needs.

Crumbling

I want to tear my flesh apart.

How could you explain to someone who could not understand what you're going through? 

How could you tell them that you cannot for the love of Life stand your reflection in the mirror? 

How could you tell them that you cannot stand the very idea of you, the very brain you have?

How could you explain that you perceive your words to be twisted, an endless stream of lies and horror?

How do you face the coming night and the nightmares lurking in the shadows, ready to rip you apart?

How?.....

I want to tear my flesh apart. 

I want to make myself bleed. I need to feel the sting of self-loathing engulf me and numb my head.

I want to get rid of every trace of my being, churn it like butter, remain outside as I live inside.

A constant turmoil, a constant pain, with a face too dry to be able to cry the tears of relief. 

Nothing but pure agony, and silent tears at night curled up in my bed, or screams I cannot let out. 

I want to tear my flesh apart just so I would cease to exist finally. 

How do you explain this? How could you make them understand? 

Perhaps through the use of poetry, the use of words that are often ignored and overlooked. 

Perhaps... 

The desire for violence and the understanding that I am the only master of my catastrophe mix up

The desire to punish me for even breathing in a world that wasn't supposed to welcome me clings

The desire for the sweet relief of celestial beratement for my existence is calling me, teasing me

I am tempted to let myself slip, perhaps this time I wouldn't be useless and would hit the mark.

Perhaps this time I would be able to expiate the sin of my very existence. Perhaps I could hurt myself.

Through pain comes absolution and through absolution comes relief. I'm looking for relief.

I want to tear my flesh apart...

I want to get my comeuppance, finally, have someone tell me I deserve what's coming.

I guess that's the twisted words that decided to escape from my mind today, yesterday... tomorrow

I know those are the twisted words I need to fend off, push back, protect myself from.

I'm not a failure, I'm not a burden, I guess the small world that is my loved ones would mind my death.

I'm just exhausted, and so easily tempted. I'm just exhausted and unable to see through the smoke.

I'm just exhausted and crumbling from deep within.

Crumbling like a sandcastle, until somehow I build myself back up again. 

A sandcastle, how fitting...How terrifying... How true. 

dear depression and anxiety

Dear Anxiety and Depression,

I know now that I can't do without you. You'll always be part of my life. I understand that you will sometimes make me forget you exist, and I will enjoy myself, my life, the very good moments I experience. I understand that you will come back with a vengeance, throwing black ink on the happiest memories I hold, you will fog my thoughts, blind me to the good I could do, could be, could give. I understand I will have moments of doubts, I will freak out, you will twist my reality. I understand that.

I have been battling you for decades now, first without knowing it was you, and only for a couple of years, aware of who and what you are. You're exhausting. If I am being very honest and blunt, you're fucking exhausting and I hate you. I hate the way you make me feel, the way you make me see myself, the way you make me see the world. I hate the thoughts you induce in my mind, and I hate your buddy « Thanatos » as I call him who creeps into my head and whispers to my ear that it would be best if I offed myself.

I never thought I would be able to survive so many years. Hell, I even believed I would be dead by age 24. When I lost my friend, Magz, to Thanatos, a couple of years ago, I wished I could join her so I wouldn't be a waste of space and skin. I wished she was at peace now, far away from the excruciating pain she felt every single day and I wish I could know it, peace...I didn't forget her words, the teachings she left me, the hope she -and my friends- induced in me. They helped me recognize the enemy, seek the help I needed and they saved me for the time being. I'm grateful...so very grateful for this.

Yet, here I am again, with massive changes in my life that make me lose control and throw me in the turmoil of uncertainty. I do very badly with uncertainty and tomorrows I cannot see or think of. So of course, you're flaring off, setting me ablaze, teasing me like there is no tomorrow. I want to ask, can you leave me for a minute? Can you let me enjoy the good I'm going through this year? Is it too much to ask for a minute of peace and calm? I have so much to deal with and I don't know how to face you anymore. I don't know how to handle the day. Step by step seems to be the best way... step by step seems to be the only way.

See, I'm happy right now. Deep down in my bones, I feel it. I am happy with the friends I have, the hubby I have and the many projects I want to realize. I might be frustrated with the job I have, I know there is a way out and I'm actively looking for it. There is no reason for me to feel like it's the end of everything or that I could lose everything because of what I could say, or do... or be. Please, stop making me feel like I don't deserve to be happy. Please don't scare me with losing everything I have been building for years. Please, just stop keeping me awake at night, twisting and twitching on my bed because I'm certain I'm hurting my loved ones and would never be able to make anyone happy. Please, stop making me feel guilty for being alive. I am trying my best to forgive myself for breathing, I'm trying to feel less guilty and there are days I succeed... there are others where I fail and I wonder why I'm still here and why there are people, who love me still...

Can't you see how exhausting you are? Can't you see how awful one's life might be? Can't you see? Can't you see ?..... I'm so tired today. I'm so tired, I need to sleep.

Crippled II

Here we go again, feeling crippled once again. I contemplate my life and all I see is all I couldn't do. One shouldn't wallow in self-pity and I don't even pity myself. My failures are mine. However, I do fail to see my success either and the wins I could snatch from life. I have won, several times. I am alive and I am kicking and I am breathing still. I have demons of my own, demons I try to hide from the rest of my family but they devour me whole. My heart is lonely, I am alone. Alone in a crowd that is. I just watch and I can't help but wonder: Why? When? How? What?

Why the pain? Why the guilt? Why can't I fucking feel like a normal human being? How is that that I only feel like the worst of them? Especially when nothing is going on on my side? I wish I could close my eyes and make it go away. I wish I could just ignore everything but let's be honest, I can't. it doesn't work like this. It doesn't work like this. Today, I am just very tired. I don't want to take my feet out of my house, out of my bed. I used to have a small notepad where I would write down my darkest thoughts. I can't seem to be able to do that anymore. at least, not for now. I used to sketch so easily but I have been blocked. I used to...

I'm turning 30 this year. it's huge. especially for someone who thought they would be dead by 24. I'm alive but I am not at the same time. I'm just spending the days.....I'm wasting away. that's the truth of my life. I'm wasting away and I know that but I cannot move. And do you know why? Because I am crippled. My brain freezes, my body stiffens. I cannot move. I am terrified. Me, who is someone who usually is bold and brave and capable of so much more. I am petrified by my own brain. I cannot fathom the idea of being able to do anything, of being a waste of space and skin, of being untalented and stupid and I mostly de-evaluate myself so much that there is nothing left of anything I know that I can do. It's even worse as people praise me. As they see me as this passionate person and capable person; I believe this image of me feels like a fraud.. while it's the truth.

I am tired, I am so tired......

So tired...

Let me sleep.

Crippled

She looked at her reflection in the mirror every single day. Same old face, same old features and yet it still was different. Before, she would make-up words to describe herself, find a flaw at every corner of her face, find reasons to hate her reflection even more. It was a mixed-bag of things she was told when she grew up, by relatives, friends, lovers. Things she internalized and understood as being true. She wasn't very pretty, she wasn't /that/ attractive. She sometimes could be tolerable to the eyes and the other times unpleasant to look at. 

She could never be like these other girls, flawless models on magazines, the perfect example of beauty in real life. Foreigners or classmates or colleagues. She would never be like them. Another part of it was what her illness told her about herself. It emphasized the self-hatred, powered through her cracks and doubts to amplify the negative feelings. She didn't tell others how complicated it was for her to look at herself, for her reflection never was the same. She never could recognize her face, never could say it was "her" she was looking at. The face in front of her always was nothing but a complete stranger and one she hated at that. How could she tell people? How could she?

It wasn't the worst. Now that her face actually was injured and there was evidence for all to see, the young woman was spiraling. For now, she found it within herself to speak about it to her trusted inner circle, but even to them, she couldn't fully explain what was going on in her head. It was terrible to look at herself in the mirror, see her injured eye, see her injured mouth and look at the scars that tore apart the skin of her face. She could trace the outlines of her injury with the tip of her finger and did over the last couple of weeks, in order to get used to this change. Her fingers memorized each crease and folds of her skin, to the point that she could map her injuries on a piece of paper by now. 

Still...it devastated her. What she had always thought she was finally happened for real and she couldn't help but stare at her reflection and consider this a divine punishment for her sins. She sinned. She was alive while she should not. She was alive while others worthy of a second chance didn't get it. She was alive and wasting away and it only was logical that the one above all decided to punish her for that. Well, she believed in those lies, to try and justify why it was happening to her. Her fear and anxiety doubled down since the accident, leaving her nothing but a shell, a vulnerable creature who didn't know how to cope with what happened to her. How could she live with herself now?

Hope was lacking. Hope, which had always been a companion to her and a great source of support had deserted her and left the young woman on her own. She couldn't see her situation get better. She couldn't hear the doctors tell her that they could help with her face. Facial reconstruction existed for a reason and she was the best candidate to get surgery. She didn't want to hear that because, in her mind, it would fail. They would try and operate on her face and she would be left with even more damages than she already had. That was how things were supposed to be given her luck. Wasn't it? Of course not! Deep down, the young woman was crying tears she couldn't cry in real life. She was confused and lost and scared but couldn't voice her feelings because they simply wouldn't come out. It wasn't her in the mirror. It wasn't her at all and yet it was. She knew she would need some time to adjust to this new situation. She also knew that she wasn't alone. 

She took her strength in the people who cared about her and those who loved her. They helped her adjust to the life she was leading now and the changes she was going through. Hope wasn't gone for good, but it would require some time to come back into her life. And she would be ready for it.

Breathe

There is the edge right at the tip of your feet
You know that if you make a move forward, you'll fall to your doom.
You know that if you go back down, you'll live in hell.
That's what your mind is telling you, whispering to you every single day.
You feel trapped. you feel lost and confused... You feel dead and yet you're still living.

There is the edge right at the tip of your feet.
you want to make that step forward. It's calling you, the infinite peace, the silence, the end of it all.
You are about to jump into the unknown, knowing full well that it might just be the beginning.
But you are ready, you'd rather go through this than spend one more day in your living hell.

When you reach that point when you know that there is nothing more to be done...Breathe.

Take a minute, look around you and contemplate life.
yes, it's dark and gloomy and a straight-up nightmare but this is what makes life, LIFE.
Darkness and light mixed together, this is what life is about and you know it.
When your head plays tricks on you, darkness seems to be darker than usual, I understand that.

When your head plays tricks on you, Light seems to have died or simply never existed, I understand.
It is so painful that sometimes you wish you weren't living in your flesh or just living altogether
You can't see the small dots of light that are peppered in your life, you are blinded to it, I understand.
How could you look at it when all you've known is pain and suffering? I don't blame you.

When you reach that point when you know that there is nothing more to be done...Breathe.

Take a minute, look around you and contemplate Life.
You might see through the smoke and shadow cast upon you, and the pain and suffering endured.
You might finally see how strong you are, how much you have survived and would survive.
You've endured all of that pain already! you've seen Hell and came back to tell the tale!

Fill your mind with the precious memories you've gathered since you came to life.
Your first kiss, That special birthday you had, the gift you couldn't wait to give to your loved one.
Think about all these moments that brought you peace, that made you feel at peace, relevant even
Think about all those glorious moments when you got to do good around you and receive good too

Little dots of lights are still around even though the darkness is thicker than usual

Breathe, Breathe my child, Breathe!

Take a minute for yourself, excuse your presence from the world and look within you
For all the times when you won and all the times when you survived should be celebrated
You can't ignore the efforts you made, the beauty you created around you by being yourself
to benefit and feed the twisted image of yourself your mind keep on shoving down your throat

Take a minute for yourself, excuse your presence from the world and look within you
For all the time you were a beautiful soul, for all the time you saved someone's life
For all the time you brought them Light by simply being there, or supportive, or understanding.
You can't ignore those times to the benefit of the darker ones. You can't paint yourself as a monster.

Breathe, Breathe my child, Breathe!

And once you see the world as it truly is, with the darkness and the light dancing together
Once you see that we are all a mix of both, with our darkness and our light inside of us
Once you see that you are capable of so much more than just destroying lives...Yes, once you do this,
Then maybe, if there's some strength left inside of you, you can back down and walk back into Life.

And I would be waiting for you, my child.

Pretender

I am a pretender,
I pretend everything is fine, a small smile here, a bigger smile there.
I pretend I have everything under control and nothing can stop me.
I pretend I am strong and I pretend I can move on.
You hurt me? No biggie, I can pretend it never happened or I can pretend it doesn't affect me.
I hurt you though? I would go out of my ways to make amends all the while punishing myself.
And nobody could see past the scheme.
Nobody could see past the smiles.
I'm just good like that.


I am a pretender,
I pretend I know everything and that I understand everything so I would never be surprised.
I pretend I can anticipate everyone's behavior so I wouldn't be surprised, you bet I don't.
I pretend I don't feel pain, or need help so people wouldn't worry about me and would admire me.
But this is bullshit, this is so false. I am not strong, I am not strong at all.
Thing is that I am falling apart and I am witnessing it from afar.
And nobody could see past the schemes.
Nobody could see past the smiles.
I'm just good like that.

Nobody could see past the schemes,
Nobody could see past the smiles
Nobody could see my pain, for I keep it all inside.

I am a pretender but I know that if I keep doing so
The next thing I would be would be dead, I am heading that way
I could stop it, maybe, if I willed myself to

The trick is... I am not sure I want to.

Memento Mori

A/N Such a dark imagery summoned a new OC. This was written a few days ago, as a safe way to deal with nefarious urges. I didn't know if I should post it, but I have posted similar writings before. Of course, you can overlook this one like the previous ones, but if I'm posting, it's to help break the shame that often follows whether or not those thoughts come to fruition. It's not in order to romanticize or glamorize a situation that is already dreadful, but just a safe way for me, when I can have a little bit of control. I needed to point it out given a few very stressful messages I received a while ago for similar writings. Please, overlook if you are not interested in reading anything I post. Let me use this catharsis. Thank you.

Xxxxxxxxx

I remember you

She stood in the middle of the room, her arms outstretched from each side of her tall frame. Her jet black locks cascading down on her back. Her black eyes averted from left to right as she took in her surroundings. One large coffin, made of wood, was standing in front of her. There lied a stone sculpture of a young maiden, with her face hidden by a large veil and her hands joined in a praying gesture. The starless and cloudless sky allowed for the moon to shine brighter than it used to, casting light onto the creature that was standing in the middle of the room, which appeared to be a mausoleum. If one could pay attention, they would realize that the creature didn't have a shadow, but who was there to witness such a moment. The woman walked closer to the sculpture. Her fingers traced every curve of the marble representation of who lied within the coffin. They wiped out her name, her image, her memory for the one lying in the coffin committed the worst crime she could have. She took her own life.

I remember you, poor little soul.

As she touched the sculpture, it started to weep tears made of blood which left the woman smile faintly as her fingers moved over to the coffin. After all these years it was a miracle it was even there. Most coffins were pillaged by scavengers. Bones were sold to universities so they could study anatomy. The clothes and jewelry were sold as well. If it happened that the corpse still had hair, they would shave it and make a wig out of it to sell. The young woman's coffin was intact. Not broken, not even dusty. It felt as if she had been buried there just yesterday. While the sculpture kept on weeping blood tears, the creature that came to visit kept running her fingers through the heavy coffin. She remembered the one buried here, despite every desperate attempt at making the dead erased from history. Her life wasn't an easy one. It was full of violence and pain. It was a life full of self-hate and desperate meaningless attempt at surviving. The poor girl couldn't find the light. She couldn't hear the compliments, she couldn't feel the love. She couldn't see the good she was doing around herself. She couldn't heal. Poor soul. A bleeding wound that walked among other humans, unnoticed from those who claimed to be her kin, preserving those she chose to be her family and keeping her suffering to herself. She held onto her pain as if it was a treasure and died.

I remember your pain, excruciating, debilitating pain.

There was a lot of anger in that soul of hers. Anger towards herself, which always manifested in self-inflicted injuries. They would always be small, easy to hide and would often go unnoticed. Then you had the self-inflicted mental abuse. The one that followed and sometimes happened at the same time as the one she never asked for. Her heart broke so many times because of herself. Her absent sense of value, her lack of self-compassion and self-appreciation. There was a lot of anger in that soul of hers. One she couldn't direct to the people who truly hurt her and that consumed her. There was a lot of pain and blood and Death. Death became a companion of her. One she lived with almost her whole life. The sirens never stopped singing praises in hope to lure the young girl in. Death always offered her a friendly comfort, in telling her that she was the only one to truly care about her. She always offered a friendly presence, one that never left her. She was there, in the pictures of dead people the girl stared at for hours, finding a weird strange peace or feeling envious of the end of their suffering. She was there, when the girl pictured herself away, into the void, a place where she would feel nothing. She comforted her when the girl cried in the darkness of her room or in the emptiness of her heart, claiming that even if she joined her, the world would keep on spinning around. People wouldn't mourn for her, she would be forgotten, life would prevail.

It consumed you, til the very end. Didn't it?

The appeal was strong. There were days, Death came close to welcome her friend but always, something, someone, kept the girl from joining her. It didn't matter. It was just a matter of time before finally, she embraced her friend in one warm hug. It wouldn't be this terrible now, would it? How could one who feels like she didn't matter and never would, find a way to move on? How could one who kept hurting herself, in hopes that it would make the pain of being alive stop, live? Where was the appeal? She lost the appeal to keep going a long time ago. She went from day to day, wishing she wasn't breathing and enduring it for the sake of others. She could be dead for all she cared, others, loved ones, kept her alive. Loved ones drove her towards the edge as well. Those she kept on loving despite them not returning those feelings back. And a feeling of betrayal overwhelmed her. How could one live when they didn't even have an identity? When being themselves was forbidden by the very people who put you on this Earth? How do you disengage emotionally from people you are supposed to love and who are supposed to want you and love you back? How can you heal from being broken ever since you were born? Who are you? The image of yourself you've tried to be or the one those who made you breathe had of you? Questions without answers, a pain without end. It ate her up and she couldn't tell. How could she explain? It didn't help that people she used to trust, betrayed that trust and hurt her. It didn't help that her body had been beaten up and violated so many times or that she nearly died but it was brushed off by people around her. People save for her loved on.. the one and only..the other half of her lungs who believed her straight away? It didn't help her in loving herself. She was disposable. She was stupid. She was an embarrassment for everyone, including herself. She was a nobody.

How does it feel now? To be free?

The creature remembered that poor soul, as her fingers still traced the coffin's simple arabesques sculpted on. She remembered the shame, the self-loathing for feeling weak, for feeling helpless. She remembered the young soul berating herself for not being able to handle more suffering. She remembered standing on her toes and weighing whether joining her friend or enduring more pain to see how far she could go. How much she could endure. Each surviving week became one more adventure. Something to brag about "Hey, look how much of a badass survivor I am. I could take it one more week." But it was all masquerades and schemes. It was all running towards danger while ignoring all the red flags. Everything was fine, everything would always be fine. If she was asked what duel took place in her head, she would reply that a peace-treaty was signed. If she was asked if the hole in her heart was fixed, she would simply nod because words couldn't hide well enough how it truly was. Torment....eternal torment.. a never ending cycle of self-doubt and blind eyes to the simplest needs, the simplest urges. We all do want love, don't we? We all do need warmth, don't we? She pretended she didn't because when she did, it only hurt. Betrayals, making fool of herself and other rejections had won a battle she was too tired to lead. It wouldn't work, so why bother?

How does it feel now? To be alive again?

The creature felt tears come up to her eyes. She hadn't cried in what seemed to be millennia. As blood stained the wooden coffin, the memories of that young girl resurfaced. The most violent ones. The least pleasant. The night she decided to join Mistress Death, she couldn't handle the pain no more. Living had always been a burden, but she always kept going because she had a sense of duty. A relative, a friend. She promised to all of them to hang in there, but not to herself. Herself wasn't there, she already was dead. After so long for living for others, maintaining herself alive so they could see her smile, or try to. She just couldn't. The usual means to soothe her soul didn't work anymore, the burden she had been carrying for years was too heavy so she couldn't move. She was stuck there, slowly but surely suffocating to Death. Nothing she tried worked. She wasn't who she tried to be, still lost after all those years of not living. It all became clear. Why being a burden to those around? those who couldn't help. Those who would never know how to help and would blame themselves for something they couldn't change? for a soul, they couldn't save? Why being a burden and a waste of space and skin and air... when you simply could not be? She kept writing about it, about her leaving. About her disappearing and finally did so. Was it painless? No. She wasn't smart enough, so obviously, she chose wrong. She opted for something she had been doing already for years without meaning it until she found the strength to. And in agonizing hours, she finally gave in. She died.

Free from this world, yet bound to it still

Nobody remembered her. They made it clear so she would disappear. Soon enough the tears stopped falling. The pain was gone. Soon enough, those who used to know her simply forgot or met their end over the years. Soon enough, she simply became yet another unnamed grave. The creature leaned against the coffin for a while, weeping her soul out for this fallen beauty. One who never quite knew why she was allowed to breathe in the first place. She noticed a pendant that had been hidden in the flower pot near the coffin. This time since there were no flowers, she could notice the item. As she retrieved and opened it, she realized it was a portrait. A portrait of the one in the coffin. A portrait of a young woman, no older than 29. A portrait of herself. She came to weep the tears for herself, to remind herself that she didn't forget her. She might have found peace in the afterlife, she still was bound to Earth and to the tears she never knew those who loved her would weep. She made herself a promise before she went away. She promised herself that if nobody was there for her, then she would weep. She would weep for her death as if it meant something as if her life meant something and she always kept that promise ever since.

Free from this world, free to be /me/

Heart bursts (angst, depression)

I wish I never spoke. I wish I never said those words.
I wish I never came to you when I didn't even know you.
Because if I had said nothing, if I hadn't spoken to you then maybe I wouldn't be hurting now

I wish I never spoke, I wish I never let you in
Because the moment I shared those feelings, I was doomed already
I let the doors open, invited you to motherfucking ruin me. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be crying now

I wish I never spoke, I wish I never acknowledged those feelings
For the only thing they are good for is hurting me, reminding me over and over again I was weak
Love is for the weak, love is for the fool, love simply might just not be for me

I keep giving myself excuses. Oh I didn't meet the right guy, oh it wasn't my fault
Maybe it wasn't , maybe I have a poor judgement when it comes to people
Maybe I am only going towards those I know would hurt me because I know how to sing that song

I keep trying to kill those feelings, make me feel nothing, become numb to all of it
I keep trying so hard to ignore everything, pretend it goes past me, that I don't care nor want it
But truth is, behind the mask, there is a very real need to be loved too, if others can why not me ?

It doesn't happen at will, it doesn't happen when you least think about it
It either happens or not, it is either good or bad, it is either bad with good or good with bad
but it's never just luck. I believe some people are meant to live those wonderful stories, others not

I wish I never spoke, I wish I never said those words
I wish I never let you in when I knew you shouldn't
Because I ended up hurting you, whether I wanted it or not. I ended up being the mean one,always

I wish I never spoke, I wish I never said those words
Because I took you in, hurt you with my words, hurt you with myself, poor wounded mind of mine
Because I warned you before 'I'm not to be loved. » and you didn't want to listen

I wish I never spoke
I wish I never was
For the greatest pain of all, is to hurt all you've ever loved.

If only she could float

She felt there was nothing else she could do.

Maybe swim a little harder to keep herself afloat

Breathe a little bit of air until she couldn't fight it anymore

And sunk, like a stone, into the depth of her thoughts

She didn't like to think about herself, take a good and hard look

For it was too painful to stare at the failures posing as trophies

For it was too painful to stare at the bleeding leaking wounds

For she didn't know how to stitch herself up, so she didn't look

She felt there was nothing else she could do

Maybe harden her skin a little more, harden it until it was numb

For it was easier to not feel everything, pretend you were okay

For it was easier to go on your merry way, make it dull and bland

But it was farcical, a real masquerade of life to flaunt at others

You would wake up, go on with your duties, make a living

Watch as the others smile and laugh and feel "happy" in wonder

How do they do it? how can they do it? Am I even alive?

Questions like these were still filling her mind without an answer

What is life? if not pretend to be like others and do as they do?

What is life? if not burying deep inside the pain and suffering

dishing out smiles at whoever asks you "How are you doing?"

When does it get real? When do you drop the mask?

She felt there was nothing else she could do if not struggling

Maybe that was what life was about, you struggling to breathe

Catch a little bit of air, move your arms until they hurt

Struggle, struggle until you can't move anymore

And then sink

And die

Maybe that was how it was supposed to be or maybe not

She didn't know better, she couldn't know better but that grinder

She wished she could float, even for a second to catch a break

Maybe then, her thoughts would be better, lighter, happier

If only she could float