This Darkness Surrounds Us

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There isn’t much to say about life, or about my life in general. Grew up in a normal household; divorced, only child, the whole shebang. Went to elementary, middle and than high school. Had the usual problems, solved them and moved on. Some problems though have found ways of cropping back up

I can’t understand the fascination people have with life; it’s so remedial. Its so small and insignificant when one looks at the prospect of death. Now, I have ever since past the “suicidal, depressed human being” stage; but one still wonders. Wonders about death and about where we are all to go after.

We all must have some idea of what is to happen to us, right? I mean, without that we really aren’t anything. We wouldn’t be able to live without anxiety or go to sleep with worry. We wouldn’t have a peace of mind knowing that when our time comes, it comes; unless it is brought early for circumstantial reasons…

Yes, I mean suicide

There is just one thing people must understand; life isn’t always beautiful; it has its thorns and poisonous ends. It has a bitter twist to it that some can’t handle, while others master within minutes. It has a bright side, a side that is hard to find but not impossible to reach. It has the rainbow at the end of the tunnel, the shine before the downpour. And sometimes…sometimes I wish I could look at life like that, I wished I could have seen that rainbow…

But all I see in my future is rain clouds and grey storms. In fact, I don’t even see a future in mine. I know, such depressing and morbid thought, but they are my thought. My current and must recent thoughts and I honestly think I am going in-sane. I can feel my life slipping away from me, my fucking control being trumped over and my ability to say anything being stopped.

I feel the will to do something slip, the overwhelming feeling of nothingness consume me. I feel so useless, worthless, ugly. I feel so ugly, that I can barely stand to look at myself in the mirror. I can barely stand the person looking back. I thought I got over it, but I haven’t. I still can’t look at myself confidently in the mirror and say ‘Yes, I am perfect, I am beautiful, there isn’t anything wrong with me. I am okay.’. I haven’t been able to convince myself that life is beautiful and so are its inhabitants; I can’t see what’s beautiful about me.

And what should I find attractive? I have nothing to offer that other women don’t have, I am plain, nothing a white canvas. I have no artistic flow to me, no undertones of elegance or a finishing of royalty. I am but a mere peasant on the floor, trying to find themselves. I am merely trying to see something about myself worth sharing, worth showing someone else and them actually accepting. I’m sick and tired of being left out in the cold, in the dust with nothing but memories. I’m tired of my friend, my sister having many. I shouldn’t be jealous but I am.

I am jealous of the one person who accepts me for me, loves me and has shown the most amount of support in my life. I am jealous of those mysterious, sultry blue eyes and that petite nose, with those red, thin lips that adorn the most radiant of smiles. I am jealous of that dark, luscious hair and those curves that make any go insane. I am jealous of that smile, those looks and those words that she utters so easily, without a worry of hint of hesitation. The way she can put two and two together, and create a perfect sentence. I am jealous of the way she has no lack of confidence and can say words to the opposite sex without even trying. It is a type of confidence I never had and probably will never have. It is a ability I never learned and am afraid too. I am jealous of how she so simply and so perfectly can be herself without self doubt and self consciences.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate her, no never. I could never hate her; she was there when no other way, when I was alone and when I couldn’t be myself. I am merely jealous of what she was gifted with and I not. I wish I could be different, be a more firm and believable person but I cannot. For at the moment, I cannot see much past this toxic darkness

So I leave now, for my time to rant and groan about what I feel. I am tried of life but not to the point of death; yet. I find it intriguing and would love to find out about it. I feel nothing, nor the wind, nor the love or warmth of any. I feel dead and hollow and am waiting for something, anything to fill that up.