Writing for me is an outlet. I don't claim to be a writer, but I love to write. What I write often makes very little sense to anyone other than me because of the style in which I write. I was looking through some old writings of mine and found this. It was originally written in 2008 when my life was beginning to change for the better for the first time in a very long time. It was also a time when I started realizing the reality of the previous few years of my life. I thought I would post it here because alot of what I felt on that day still remains with me and alot has changed. I have changed but the underlying truth of what I wrote back then still exists today and by posting this it is a reminder to myself that while circumstances may not change and the past cannot be changed, but I myself can change.
"A year has passed. The moon has risen hundreds of times and the sun set a hundred more, but to me only a day has passed. I watch my life flash in front of me. Not a participant, just an observer.At times less than an observer. I wonder who is the driver of my life. Where is its destination? So much sorrow and heartache self-inflicted it seems. Good intentions do not please those who walk in the light. They are only for those who sit in silence. Unseen.Unheard. Forgotten souls. Demoralized. Humiliated. Shattered beyond existance. Simply waiting for their time in this world to pass. At times I wonder what did I do to deserve the sorrows inflicted upon me? Am I insane? So far beyond the realms of sanity and reality that I can no longer recognize what is real and what is my self induced reality. I see a life before my eyes but no longer believe it to be mine. I wait patiently for my judgement to come. A patience hated by others. The very cause of their hatred. But as much as I try no understanding comes to me. I sit and watch. Silence is better. I cannot participate in this so called reality. My very touch is filled with such darkness that it stains every small thing that comes near it. Like the hand of Midas..only my hands do not turn objects into gold but into the very epitomy of evil itself. Is it a curse? Is it real? Questions I ask myself with every breath, but yet no answers can be found. Another day has dawned. I can only wait to see what my hand brings to me today. I no longer have to touch things of this reality. Just my presence. Just a thought of me. Brings about its hatred.
A year ago I sat in a chair not unlike the one I sit in now. I wrote words hidden deep in my soul. But today my soul is empty. All hope gone. All light extinguished. No reason to live. No reason to exist, but yet I still breathe. I still wake everyday not knowing the reason why. I give nothing to anyone. No hope. No love. No faith. No truth. No sustenance. Why does breath still enter my body each day? I am but a shell of humanity. Tears no longer fall from my eyes. They have all gone. Pain that was sharp as the finest blade has now dulled into a slow ache. An ache that haunts my very existence. That follows me thru space and time. My only friend.
Never has any soul been so lost and misunderstood. Screams go unheard. Tears go unwiped. Beyond hope. Beyond help. Simply the instrument of a source of hatred unknown by its host. Unknown to this soul that seems to carry it even though the want and desire to rid itself is so strong. But yet so unattainable. Having only one wish. One desire. But yet that wish will go unanswered. Again it will be hidden from the prying eyes of those who cannot begin to understand the depths of its existence. Again it will be hidden away. Far below the surface. No eyes will see it. No hand will caress it. Once being someone's child. Once being someone's mother. Someone's friend. Someone's confident. Someone's provider. Someone's love. All of these things have gone. Faded with the night breeze. So far gone from one's mind that to even begin to walk down that path brings such pain and sorrow. That one no longer travels it. The door has closed. The time long passed. Now being nothing for no one. No one's child. No one's mother. No one's love. Retreating instead into the farthest depths of one's own mind. One's own soul.
So far inside that even if the world tried to find it. It could never see it. It will never be reached. Never to be seen again. Simply waiting. Waiting for the cold hand of sorrow to come. Waiting for the one and only one who will never leave. Who is always there. Unseen. But yet when this friend will come is unknown to one? Only the absolute certain truth that one day, He will appear and take one's soul in His hands. This is the one and only truth undeniable to all. Even though every soul spends every waking moment denying their one and only true friend. In the end He will come. His knock cannot be ignored. To some it is a welcome relief from the nonexistent life they have been walking in. To some they will ask for more time. But none will be given. For some, none wanted even if it were given by the slightest of requests.
Is it the physical hand that has become tainted with such hideous cruelty? Is it an unseen one? If it were only physical then so easily a remedy found. Simply to cut one's hands off. Ridding one's self of such instruments of darkness. But it is not the physical hand that brings about one's self destructive behavior. Why is it one cannot be as others are? Why is it this shroud of darkness falls on one's shoulders? Never lifting. Unmoved by the strongest winds. Resting so heavily on one so burdened. This world taunts and screams and yells. But they do not know what torture one puts on its own self. They can scream a thousand days but it will never equal to one moment of what one says to one's own self. Such words can only be spoken from within one's own being. Just a moment to begin again. To start life anew. Would things be different? Would one thought change an entire existence? What is written cannot be erased even with the strongest of prayers. Total submission once given cannot be revoked. One's life once given cannot be taken back. Waiting for the day when every soul shall speak truth. Hoping for that peace. And fearing it shall never come"
Tuesday, 25 November, 2008