Die young and save yourself

Die young and save yourself

On this day, what would have been a day filled with love and excitement, I sit alone hearing the same sad songs over and over again.

The songs we used to sing together.

Wondering what you’re doing. What you’re thinking. And if you’re hurting as much as I am. If you’re even hurting at all.

Goodbye to sleep

There’s no remedy for these thoughts and feelings. Nothing I do, or take, can cure this feeling of falling backwards into this eternal abyss, which I’ve tragically created for myself.

I can’t go on.

But I have no choice. Forced to live with these memories, these thoughts of you, with no escape or relief.

Feeling cold and dead – It’s to be expected living without the heart I gave to you.

You wake up and and live your life with it. You eat, work, laugh, love, all with my heart in the palm of your hands and you don’t even know it. You do all of the things I wish I could do.

And the worst part is, I’m happy for you…

I know I could give you happiness. Perfection. But it’s been promised so many times, that I don’t blame you for not believing me. But I know I can. This day won’t ever be the same. How could it? I lost the one thing that was keeping me whole. The one person that could take me away from all of this.

So, on this day, what would have been a day filled with love and excitement, I sit alone hearing the same sad songs over and over again.

 

 

A side note: If you have anything you’d like to post on my blog, I’ve started a new section on Opinion Feed where you can submit your writings, thoughts, or general rantings – anonymously or under whatever name or pseudonym you choose. Read more about project SyncdIn, and get involved. There’s already so many who have submitted their work, and just thoughts in general, so let yours be next! 

Out of Ink

Out of Ink

I sit here alone holding a dying pen — nearly void of ink. I’ve been searching persistently for a blank sheet of paper to write down my thoughts. The last page, I filled with my deepest secrets and darkest emotions. I polluted its lines with anger and spiteful thoughts. Before I knew it, the entire page was black. Not one word legible. Not one word it’s own. I cluttered the page with so much emotion and fear, I had no space left to write down what was important. I ruined a perfectly good sheet of paper — forever darkened by the black ink of my pen. All that time and effort put in to something and I have nothing to show for it in the end. So I continue to search for a paper or pad. Something to write on. And now that my pen’s almost dried up, I’ll be careful not to make the same mistake twice.

Insecurities

The filthy creature is rendering me speechless again — swallowing my words before they can make an escape. It’s infectious bite is causing my throat to swell making it hard to breathe. I can feel its grip tightening — its claws tearing beneath a new layer of skin with every pulsating ‘thump’ in my chest. My vision is slowly fading to black, the venom found its way to my heart.

I’m begging it to stop. I’m begging it for death. It doesn’t understand me.

It’s turning me — altering my biological being. Changing my molecular build — a mutation of my DNA. The change is complete.

My eyes, no longer my own. Poor unfortunate soul in my sites. My motives are clear. Filled with rage and emotion, I spew an infectious toxic acid towards my victim. One shot. That’s all it took. Poor soul. She begins to turn. But her beast is not like mine. Her beast is not like me. Good. Pure. Innocent.

What have I done?