As I look at this blank page before me, I wonder just what words could fill it to inspire those who read whatever it is I write. I struggle to place the words in my mind the way that anyone on the outside of my thoughts could understand. I have been so tortured in ways that no one could imagine and even so, I'm still haunted by those demons. No matter how hard I try to run or the ways that I face those monsters-I come face-to-face with what is right in front of me, never letting me let go...holding onto me tight with a smirk around its face. This invisible being that has me trapped in the dark and the tiniest bit of light that comes (called hope) gets over shadowed by the darkness, tearing down any dreams or inspirations I have. It allows me to weep ever so gently with tears that never fall-yet brings such a hatred in my very soul that causes me to go into a deeper depression. Everything I touch is tainted by the dark and not even my family want me to step into their lives in fear of what demons may come out of my body...
I have longed for the love that would hold onto my heart tenderly. I see my heart as crumbled and broken. Useless and battered. Worthless and tormented. It has never been carefully touched or tenderly held...only been a project of what evil comes from a mans heart, soul, and mind. I see myself handing over my heart to a man who seems to perceive himself as a tender, gentle, loving man. One that will forever hold it closely, yet only to be torn apart and stepped on. They take what is handed over to them (ever so vulnerably) and hold it close. Then as the days pass on, they play with it. Threatening to throw it up in the air and pretending to not catch it; yet at the very last minute grabbing onto it with careful skill. More and more my heart gets fondled and more and more I cry out trying to grab it back. Yet they are stronger, faster, and more powerful than I am-and so they continue to toy with me. With each passing moment, I feel a pain at every strike to my heart, and each beat becomes faster and faster. I sweat with anticipation of what will become of me and how will I handle myself when it just drops and shatters. At that very moment of thought-I see them throw it up and this time, catching my eye, turn around and walk away. I have no time to run and catch it-so it touches the ground with full force and shatters into a million pieces. I am now dead inside. I have no living heart beat-no more soul-and no more breath to take. Where do I begin to even start picking up what was once so beautiful, and now is shattered, beaten, and broken. What is now useless, unworthy, and ugly. I see them all laying on the ground...my knees go weak and I fall to them. I don't even know where to begin
.Yet, it's so funny how someone can break your heart and still you love them with all the little pieces...
So, knowing that I have demons in my soul-and that I'm not to even touch the very children that I love so deeply; aches my very being. Yet they know not what they say. They have no idea that my heart has been so wounded and they don't even try to understand. They see a broken girl, but do they try to care to even pick up those pieces along with me? No. They continue to break them down until they are crushed into nothing but sand. So when I place the tiny pieces in my hands, they slip through the crevices as if nothing was ever there. That is when I began to shift everything. If I can't fix a broken heart, then why not hate what I can no longer feel for? I become numb to anything around me. It hurts to even begin to smile. The energy it takes just for a smile is more than I can bear. I am no longer living inside, no longer feeling what was joy or happiness. It is a bittersweet tragic day when the heart inside of me died. The cold air that was blown through attacked my body and finding warmth seemed to be nowhere in sight. Death overtook my body, beginning to have full control of my every move. And yet, they do not know. They refuse to see. I'm and just infected and have diseases that they do not want to be around. It is not as though my disorders can be passed to them at any touch, but yet they run as if afraid that it might. I am the monster. I am death.
Once upon a time. there was a little girl. The world was big, and yet she was so small. Yet, the adventures in life seemed endless and her very being was so free. The family that surrounded her loved to see her smile, and the joy she brought to them was wonderful and so real. The love in the family was easy to see the moment one looked their way. The little girl was able to live to love life and love to live life. Until the day where it all ended, where the hatred began to set in. The disorders began to set in and the darkness took place of the light. Hope seemed far away and unreachable, and dreams became nothing but silliness. The family got torn apart. No longer was there peace. In replace of that was confusion and bitterness. No longer was there solitude. Instead there became ruckus and havoc. The family lost sight of the little girl who once was, and only saw her as the girl who now is. Old enough to know what she is doing, yet so young to believe what plays through her mind and thoughts daily at every second. No longer do they care to listen or be apart of what they once were. Now they have their own lives, and the once little girl and now the girl that is-is no longer invited to be apart of the fairytale of theirs. She just became the monster locked in the dungeon-hidden in secrecy-tormented and never allowed out.
She is no longer apart of what once was called..."family".
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