Tear Brimmed
1/1
The pain that surrounds my being dares to swallow me into dark depths. It threatens to slowly pull my sanity from me, and leave me sick in the mind.
At times the pain is unbearable, it challenges my right to life, it hurts me. The pain soars through my systems, and catches fire onto my blood, sending wild flames all inside of me.
It causes a dreadful sensation driving me into a blind rage, hurting and destructing whatever may be in my pathway.
That pain is not healthy, it is slowly killing me with a dull knife, each time plunging deeper than before into my already wounded heart.
Outsiders cannot fathom the immensity of the pain that i undergo on a daily basis. You could not possibly exaggerate this type of torture, words cannot describe it properly.
However, I know that this pain did not just appear one day. There are underlying issues that I'm aware of, that I know are right beneath the surface.
Truthfully, this pain is all formed from sorrow, from despair, from the tears that drove down my cheeks on a emotional rampage. This pain throbs and feeds off of my depression. I am simply plagued by persistent calamity.
And I know the reasons which I feel this way.
It's because of him, it's because of my loss, it's because of my over all life. It's a common, overused excuse, that just sounds beyond cliche, but it's honestly the story of my life.
The movies and stories that my once terrific mother once read me at bedtime could not prepare me for the excruciating truth of the world. Not once have I seen butterflies dancing in the wind with me.
No, I had never had a wonderful day free of flaws. The sun has never shone for a full day, sun kissing my skin and delighting me with joy.
Instead, every day I think about him, I think about that day when I was molested. I think about how my mother was just a few rooms away. I think about his hands, his face, his eyes. I think about the certain wildness dispersed throughout the Earth.
I think about my brother, who is now dead, thanks to doctors. I think about the innocent ten year old boy dying on a hospital bed as top certified surgeons watch. I think about how I'll never get to see my brother again. I think about the memories I shared with the now deceased angel, and I think about how there will never be more.
I think about my family. I think about my mother who used to be my best friend, my rock, my certainty. I think about the xanax littered throughout the house because of her addiction.
I think about my biological father, who left me a few years after being born. I think about his addiction also, and how I was less important. I think about how I will never have a relationship with the man who is partially to blame for my existence.
I think about my sister, the creation from the step-dad and his ex-wife. I think about how she spilled my deepest secrets, and then flew away from my life. I think about how she betrayed me on an enemy level, despite the fact that she was my sister.
I think about my brother, my younger brother. I think about the sweetest child I ever laid my eyes upon. I think about the things that I see, which he also witnesses. I think about the corruption taking place in his soul. I think about loosing the only thing I love.
I think about my grandparents, both taking on the challenge of cancer, slowly eating them away. I think about the pain they must face just to take another breath. I think about their struggles, and I think about their pain.
I think about my life, and I cannot help but to cry.
I despise my weakness that overcomes me, and I wish it to be gone. If only I could vanish without anyone remembering me, or feeling any emotions because of me. The joy that would ride tidal waves inside of my heart if all this pain would just go away.
Then I realization strikes. This is life. It's not going to get better, in fact it gets worse. There are people that have it rough compared to I. This is a curse, life is a curse.
At times the pain is unbearable, it challenges my right to life, it hurts me. The pain soars through my systems, and catches fire onto my blood, sending wild flames all inside of me.
It causes a dreadful sensation driving me into a blind rage, hurting and destructing whatever may be in my pathway.
That pain is not healthy, it is slowly killing me with a dull knife, each time plunging deeper than before into my already wounded heart.
Outsiders cannot fathom the immensity of the pain that i undergo on a daily basis. You could not possibly exaggerate this type of torture, words cannot describe it properly.
However, I know that this pain did not just appear one day. There are underlying issues that I'm aware of, that I know are right beneath the surface.
Truthfully, this pain is all formed from sorrow, from despair, from the tears that drove down my cheeks on a emotional rampage. This pain throbs and feeds off of my depression. I am simply plagued by persistent calamity.
And I know the reasons which I feel this way.
It's because of him, it's because of my loss, it's because of my over all life. It's a common, overused excuse, that just sounds beyond cliche, but it's honestly the story of my life.
The movies and stories that my once terrific mother once read me at bedtime could not prepare me for the excruciating truth of the world. Not once have I seen butterflies dancing in the wind with me.
No, I had never had a wonderful day free of flaws. The sun has never shone for a full day, sun kissing my skin and delighting me with joy.
Instead, every day I think about him, I think about that day when I was molested. I think about how my mother was just a few rooms away. I think about his hands, his face, his eyes. I think about the certain wildness dispersed throughout the Earth.
I think about my brother, who is now dead, thanks to doctors. I think about the innocent ten year old boy dying on a hospital bed as top certified surgeons watch. I think about how I'll never get to see my brother again. I think about the memories I shared with the now deceased angel, and I think about how there will never be more.
I think about my family. I think about my mother who used to be my best friend, my rock, my certainty. I think about the xanax littered throughout the house because of her addiction.
I think about my biological father, who left me a few years after being born. I think about his addiction also, and how I was less important. I think about how I will never have a relationship with the man who is partially to blame for my existence.
I think about my sister, the creation from the step-dad and his ex-wife. I think about how she spilled my deepest secrets, and then flew away from my life. I think about how she betrayed me on an enemy level, despite the fact that she was my sister.
I think about my brother, my younger brother. I think about the sweetest child I ever laid my eyes upon. I think about the things that I see, which he also witnesses. I think about the corruption taking place in his soul. I think about loosing the only thing I love.
I think about my grandparents, both taking on the challenge of cancer, slowly eating them away. I think about the pain they must face just to take another breath. I think about their struggles, and I think about their pain.
I think about my life, and I cannot help but to cry.
I despise my weakness that overcomes me, and I wish it to be gone. If only I could vanish without anyone remembering me, or feeling any emotions because of me. The joy that would ride tidal waves inside of my heart if all this pain would just go away.
Then I realization strikes. This is life. It's not going to get better, in fact it gets worse. There are people that have it rough compared to I. This is a curse, life is a curse.