неделя, ноември 13, 2011

About that awful feeling that creeps in my soul again


It is there. Again. Cold and swift. And it is so intense, almost pitch black in purple shades, it could make me faint from the vibrancy alone. My guts are wrenched. I know the end of something important for me is near. Really near. Touchable, sensitive. There at my fingertips. 

I hate metaphors. Distant words and explanations of why, when, where, who... My head gets all foggy at the thought of the nearing decision-making point. I need a resolution. So I will say all my chaotic fears one after another. Asking myself how to fulfil and replenish my soul.

As I leave piece by piece I am always remembered. Why don't they care about me when I am around? When I sacrifice my body, feelings, emotions, time, friends, soul and mind for them. Why they see me at the razor thin edge of insanity after lonely days and even lonelier nights? I am only a milestone for everybody? And then it hits me one more revelation: they always treat me differently than the other-ones. I am the not so pampered, not so loved, not so cared about, not so very special, not so dependant one, not so interesting, not so clever, not so beautiful, not so sufficient, not so great al all. In two words not so. But then again I am the one which is seeing their real image.
I wish I was a rag doll. Emotionless. Able to fulfil desires and then to simply get up and go away in the closet until her future use.  It would be so much easier on my mind. Not to be chained with confusion. Like a toy.
I want to believe but my ability is stoned from what I see all around me. When actions don't follow said promises, it is hard to place your trust over and over again. I want to care for and be cared about. Like remembering why I will spend next days in the hospital, why I am so scared about myself and my future (here people die every other day from medical mistakes), why I need to take my medication or simply to open up the window because I can't breath again. It is the same caring that makes me wish "good night" when I want to cry with frustration.

I am difficult. As I am easy. Even better if you let me inside. 


2 коментара:

  1. not so loved, not so cared about, not so very special, not so dependant one, not so interesting, not so clever, not so beautiful, not so sufficient, not so great al all.

    NOT SO?! NOT SO?!?! Do you hear yourself! NEVER, and I really do mean NEVER, NEVRE EVER underestimate yourslef, NEVER tell yourself you're something even less than INCREDIBLE! The others just don't know YOU! THEY LOSE... CAUSE THEY ARE LOSERS! F*CK THEM!
    LET THEM GO TO HELL!

    And about that: "I want to care for and be cared about." .. It's that simple, I know, oh, how I know...
    The irony of it!

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  2. Yes. The pure sadistic sarcasm of life. :") I do not underestimate myself, my dear. But often other people around me do that.

    As this night I lost half of my heart forever, I only can smile and look through the window and hope that in some point of my wretched existence the one who bears it will see again the real me and not what he invented.

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