The times are growing painful. The feeling of hopelessness are growing nearer. Those who tell me to lighten up, won't listen and understand. And those who actually listen to me, tell me not to give up. But this feeling, the hopelessness, the sadness, it grows stronger than the ability to control it. Anymore, I don't know if the happiness that shows upon my face is real, or if it is fake for others sake. I don't know what to do anymore.
The thought scares me. My mind is filled with questions, and memories. Yet, they are as empty and as sharp as broken glass. I try to hold onto them, yet my hands are sliced, and bloodied. My face is covered with tears of pain and distaste. I feel as if the memories and the questions are killing me. Yet, the feeling doesn't come upon me fast like a shot or a stab. It is a slow death, as if cutting one's wrists.
As time goes on, the wounds bleed out if not taken care of. At times, I don't know if I want the wounds to be cared for. I do not fear death, that's not it. I fear leaving the ones I care for behind. I could never die with the thought of, this will make everyones life better. Because I know that is not true. My life maybe meaningless to me, but it would bring the world no good, for my undoing. But I highly doubt these wounds of mine, the deep cuts within my mind, body and soul, will ever heal...
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Words of Silence
The words that are silent during the day, shall be spoken and heard through the night.
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all is lost to my ears
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