To be Young Again...

To be young again and never have to feel the pain of heartache...to never even have to know what the pain of what feelings can do, is a lucky stage of life. When young, boys don't seem to matter. Looking for what they could offer doesn't even seem to cross the young ones mind. They don't know what it is like to look into the one across from you and fall so easily into a feeling that only rarely occurs. When young, all that is being cared about is who's going to play today, what they'll laugh about, petty things like that. The heart of a man doesn't even matter. When young, feelings may be hurt, but there is never the deep aching the breaking, and feeling and feeling the pieces literally fall or they shatter onto the ground. There is never the feeling of abandonment from the one you entrusted with your heart. When young, things like that don't matter. Questions and curiousity of "why's the sky blue" often pop up, but never "what about me didn't captivate his attention?" Those feelings are never felt. If only to be young again...

How I long to be at the point where I don't have to cry at night due to the torment of what all "alone" does to me. It's an enemy I fear and feel it as if it is a bitter coldness that wraps itself around you...a night you can't run from...a feeling you can never hide from. Along is something, that when you're young, you never use as a part of your vocabulary. Only when you are young...

And then you get older. As you get older, you begin to feel more pain, and it becomes scary. It's as if dipping your toes into ice cold water. The feeling seems to send your body into a slight shock.You can't imagine putting the rest of your body into the water,, but something pulls you in. Feelings. That is what happens when beginning to understand them. It comes as a shock. Then your body dips into them and somehow you become lost in them. Trying to sort them out, even allowing some of them to get you into trouble. When someone comes along and attactches themselves to you, your feelings begin to jump all over. Scary...not sure what to do. You run full force into it, not even afraid of what may come. And for that slight moment of bliss, it is wonderful to feel...but then the end draws near and pain suffocates you. Then in that one moment you hate what makes you feel. You draw back, seclude yourself, and you long for what it was like to be young.

Time continues to go by. The clock never stops ticking, not for anyone...not even you. And in time there is healing, there's grief, and there is devestation. In time there holds nothing good. The years pass on and abandonment happens continuously. It never ends and you wonder, "why"...so you change. Who you are is never enough, so you lose yourself into becoming who you are not. Then once they throw you away you are right back into losing yourself in the midst of feelings. Feelings that you will do anything to get away from.

I've yt to find a peace of mind. All I long to do is shut my eyes to what I see, plug my ears to all I hear, and shut my mouth to all I say...sleep in such a deep slumber that I'll never be awoken from it. I want to run, rather than to face it. I'd rather give up on what I should hold onto...

I'd rather be young again.

Letting it all Enter My Soul...

What exactly is suicide. Is it running from what you can't seem to face? Is it the feeling that you are so hopeless that you can't stand to live anymore? Maybe it is the way you feel like you have no purpose...like you have nothing to live for...nothing that is so great about you and that others will be so much better without you. Suicide is where you take your life because you see no other option. You are so wrapped up in your own world that you don't care of the lives you will torment when you take it. When you give it up and throw it all away, you are only thinking of one thing. Ending the pain.

I have tried. I have tried to run...to get away from the voices, to get away from what threatens me. Fear of living one more day. Fear of feeling the pain that each day brings. Remembering what happened...remembering the torment and being held down. Being cornered, being trapped in the moment that would change one life forever. Trying to move on, trying to forget and put it in the past is more and more challenging every day. Especially when you have someone reminding you every day of your past and who you were and what all happened. Someone who doesn't take what pain you go through daily into their precious hands...they just throw you around and want to watch you burn. I try to throw away what has made me, well, me. I try to place it in the back of my mind and forgive. I've forgiven, but myself I have not. I'm not free from all that happened, so I see no other way out then to take what I believe I waste. I waste air...the pain is never gone. If I go then I will finally be able to leave what I have touched and failed at. What I have touched and ruined. Suicide is a tempting thought.

What is it about running away that stables me? Well, I am told that I should go shoot myself in the head. That I must lock myself into my apt and think of how I fail. That I will never be happy. That I am not right in the head...I am questioned what I am so bipolar. I am told if he went into my work, I would be slapped so hard I wouldn't know what hit me. I am a nothing. If I am a nothing WHY remain on this earth. I am told enough that letting it go in one ear and out the other is hard to do. I'm told enough that I believe ever single word...is that what true love is? To believe what I am, yet I know that I'm not. Suicide will never leave my mind no matter how hard I try to fight it. When is it that I will learn to not think about it? When will I believe that I am more and I'm worth being on this earth. What exactly is the purpose I am to live?

As long as I hear those words I will never forget to show him what death is. It is a temptation, so I slit and cut all I can. The blood is the tears I can't seem to cry. Scars all over my arms and "ugly" written on me to remind me to better. Is that how it is meant to be? I figure that true love is when I will be abandoned. I fear it due to falling for it and then being left once more. Those three words are said so much, yet not enough. I hear it-and I want to believe it when I say it, but that is something I struggle because when I have loved and loved truly, I have been left. So, I fall for false love. That way I can't be disappointed when I am left, crushed, or abandoned. I'm comfortable with where I'm at in life...although every day I cry out loud for help, yet I can't seem to take that step forward.

Suicide...I wish I could fight the thought.
But he will never let me.

Only to Be Trapped...

Trapped...
Many people feel they know what that word means, but yet they haven't the slightest idea. In my mind being trapped is where you are backed up into a dark corner and no matter how hard you push or fight, no matter how hard you look for the slightest bit of light the way you are trapped and positioned, there is none. For me, being trapped is sometimes seeing a slightest bit of hope to get a way out, yet only to be sucked one more time into that corner; again seeing no hope-no light. Being trapped for me is a sinking ship that slowly drowns the further and further it goes down and there is no hope in saving that sinking ship.

Trapped...
He speaks so harshly to me. He degrades me. He insults me. And yet I remain. I remain strong as he beats me daily more and more frequently. Now I am a zero. Now I have no feelings that remain and no longer do I seem to stand strong. Like a falling building, I am falling slowly and with an ease until I hit the ground. Laying there, I am still taking the beating of his words. They pound and pound on me until I am flat on the ground with no breath hardly to my body. I'm bleeding profusely and I'm watching each breath get slower and slower. Yet he doesn't kill me. I'm still living, hardly, but living enough to watch and feel every word he says that shatters my heart piece by piece. Yet, I'm trapped.

Trapped...
I'm trapped in this corner because I have fallen. I have fallen where his feet lay and I haven't the strength to get up and run. So I question myself as to what I could have done better to be better. I am lying where he wants me and so he stands over me and spits on me over and over again until I am drenched with his spit. I am drenched wet with all of his fury and anger. All of his expectations that I seem to always fail. I am drenched with failure. Yet, I question to him, "Will you ever leave me? Prove to me that you love me...Do you truly love me? Is it true that you will break down if we were to break up? How important am I to you?" I just want to be something so great to someone. I want to be loved. I want to be remembered if he were to just up and leave me or if we weren't to work out. I want to be thought of and even though we aren't together, to be able to have him smile because of the times that were shared. Yet, I am trapped because I am asking questions I know the true answer to, but I just can't seem to face it.

Trapped...
What importance do I have in his life? If he looks another way at someone else and tries to initiate some kind of something with her, then what good am I? What do I have that is so great about me when I am not the only one he looking at, wanting to be with, or captivating his attention? I am trapped because although I ask those questions, I want to believe the truth he shares when he says she is nothing. That she knows. Only, I am told different. Who do I believe? Where is the simplicity of life? Letting go? Giving up? No, I have to keep breathing with what little breath I have. His foot is on my chest with full weight being put on it. I'm wheezing trying to grasp onto what I have left...Why doesn't he just kill me? Why doesn't he just do what I know he trying to do but yet I remain...

Trapped...
In his kindness, I feel that maybe he'll help me up-and he does. There is a moment where I see a change in his eyes and he kneels down, see's what he has done and he helps clean me up and helps me stand. I take him back although I know what he has done, for I have that hope he is finally coming around. But, the moment I am able to stand strong again-the cycle only begins to happen once more. I am spit on, I can take that. I am being taunted, I can take that. I am watching him as he looks elsewhere, I can take that. He isn't breaking me until...
Until he lays me flat down. Until he throws a curve ball and crack hits me right in the face and I fall. Again I am broken. How many times will I allow this? How many times will I allow the truth of being trapped haunt me?

Trapped...
I'm in something that is bigger than I am. I know there is One that is bigger than I am-bigger than trapped is. But when lying on the ground with pools of blood surrounding me, with my eyes swollen shut, with my throat cut open so I can't speak...all I see, feel, and hear is...

Trapped.

Being Held Hostage

I have seen many changes come about from my past to the current day. What I used to be was strong in knowing who I was. I let no one get a hold of me and torture me in ways that I didn't see a way out from under them. When I was abused the first time, I got sucked into believing that no longer was I strong. My personality shifted and I became what I had to in order to survive. Once I found a way out of the reoccurring torment on my self esteem, I thought I would go back to being that strong girl who didn't let people tear her down. The safety that I leaned on, was just as worse.

I began to change everything about me in order to fit into the mold that I thought he wanted me to be. I was no longer someone that I knew. Not a single ounce of who I knew of myself was there anymore. I became a whole 'nother character just to keep someone who didn't accept me for truly what/who I was. That started a long journey of searching just who I was because I lost that person years ago. I let his input count and I let him control my personality. Near the end of things, I begged him-wanting to change into whoever he wanted me to be once more because obviously who I was wasn't the correct person that he needed me to be. But, that didn't end up being enough.

The next one that came to my side got to see me at a very broken and vulnerable state. I had to start back to square one with him. So, he got to see me weak and tired so who I was before no longer had the strength to go on. That person dissolved but yet I changed once more for this new one in my life. I knew that in order to keep him I had to be distant, yet at the same time I'd have to be what he needed whenever he needed it. Whatever he wanted-I'd give him. Whatever he needed-I'd find a way to hand it over to him. But being that person wasn't enough to keep him. He didn't need me. He was fine to be on his own, so who I had changed my character to being wasn't what would keep him in love with me. There was nothing I could do to be what he wanted. I was just someone to pass time. I was just a fill in when he was in trouble. I was a no body. Who I was-was never enough.

I was heartless. Yet, I changed for him as well. Who I was became "real". Any feeling I'd get, I'd show. Yet, it still wasn't me. My medicine was working but I was so stuck with him that I didn't know how to get out. I wasn't faithful to him because I never really liked him to begin with. Fighting became our habit and it became a way for us to release the stress we'd feel. He'd not let me walk away no matter how bad I wanted to, but he had a hold of me tight. He'd support me in anyway I needed him to. He'd do anything I'd ask of him, but I was never truly happy. I wasn't who he wanted and no matter how I changed, it was never what he wanted. What he wanted I could not be in that time of my life. I couldn't be kind. I couldn't always give him what he demanded of me physically and he never respected my "no". He always wanted more. More in which I couldn't bring myself into giving. I was so dead from being abused in many ways and it didn't help that he would abuse me mentally and emotionally. I was tormented and told that I was messed up. But he continued to chase me...I was angry and that was who I was. I had changed, not for him, but becuase OF him. I couldn't go on. So it ended.

Now I'm in a rut. I am being held hostage in this mess I don't even know how to get out of. Respect is demanded of me and yet I hardly get it back. Being blamed for every little thing and told that I don't need to be called names because I know what I am-if that is the case why come back to a whore? I have changed into someone for him because I don't want to have him leave. I couldn't stand that pain of being alone and not being able to breathe because I would be lost when I wouldn't have that someone to lean on or have that someone to think for me. Yet, at the same time I can't breathe because I am not allowed to do anything I'm used to. I'm no longer able to have any friends or anyone in my life other than him. And I seem to cry inside but on the outside not care. I have changed by allowing someone to control my every step. Who am I any more? I seem to have lost myself in the midst of everyone. I have lost control of myself. So, I let someone else take that control. I can't breathe without him telling me to. I can't take a step without him telling me I'm allowed to. Who am I?

I've lost myself in the midst of tranlsation. Giving myself to them all-and changing who I am, but it's never been enough to keep them. I've never been able to captivate them to remain having them in my life, and the ones I do-don't truly love me, they just enjoy the idea of love. I'm just a project of their mindset. Just a toy to play. I am really not who they know because I don't even know just who it is that I am.

So, who am I?

No Longer Remembering

I'm back again. Where I know that I am free and able to say whatever it is I feel with no judgment or harassment. When something drastic happens-isn't it typical to..."feel"? Yet, for me feeling is a hard battle. In reading all my blogs, I am constantly hearing or seeing...numb-numb-numb. This is true. Except for as of right now, I am not sure where I am at. Am I in the middle of this pain? Or have I stepped out of it viewing it from the outside, yet still feeling the pain that I see is going on? Or am I just...numb?

This feeling is a pain that I can't understand why it aches me so. Any other typical day, I'd be able to just let it rest and let it go. But I'm holding on. Why? Is it because I know that I did wrong? I caused someone pain, which in return kills me. My world is shaking. It is in a place where I can hardly stand without falling down. I don't care whether my emotions were shut off and numb whenever I was tore down, the fact of the matter is I did something to affect something that I had going for me. Right or wrong-whoever he was...I still did the inevitable. Even when having not the slightest idea of what I was doing in the moment, I made a fool of myself by saying those words that will now follow he and I. I was his life...his very breath. We made it work-we made it happen. And I didn't mind. I enjoyed being his world. He never left me he cared deeply and was by my side always. I loved his company no matter the moments of silence, or the moments that tiffs occurred. He seemed to bring me to life when all I was used to feeling was death inside.

There was something about him that had me drawn to him so intently. Maybe it was his touch that was so gentle and loving. Or maybe it was his laugh that we seemed to make each other do often. It could be the fact that he gave up things to be with me, because the mere presence of being around each other was hard to deny. I long for what I can no longer have...

all because I don't remember.

When it Rains

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".

A Likely Story

I'm dying for a change and a peace of mind, but I don't even know where to begin to get it. I have so much that I want to write and get out of my system, but to place them in words is what is making this very hard. Things just don't seem right. I knew that it'd happen, for it was going so well. Next thing I knew I was struggling to really place the peices together. Maybe that is suppose to happen. Like, maybe it's best for things to remain unknown that way life keeps you guessing. Yet, I can't grasp that. I want to be able to know just what is running through his mind. I want to know just what it is that he is holding back and not allowing me to know. But, I fear I won't ever know. So...I accept it and I move on.

I'm constantly wanting to cry, but tears don't come. The only time they do is when it comes out. The only time I fear the tear staining my cheek is when sickness over takes my body and I let it all go. I can't help the fact that I'm stuck. I have no other choice just becuase I long to cry. Even when the worst of situations happen, I just hold it in and the result of that is anger. And when the anger comes out-it is like a fire...I hurt and burn down everything I touch. It's not attractive. Who would ever love something like that? The medicine is helping my moods at times, but I still don't know what to do about what really haunts me.

"You are the hero of your own story"...am I really? Becuase all I feel is that I'm the villan of my own story. I am my own worst enemy. I know others have it worse and if they do, then my heart aches for them becuase what I go through and live through is enough for me to quit fighting. I was once so strong. When is it that I gave up? No one wants someone who gives up as easily as they breathe. I'll be just fine pretending I'm not.

I wish I could look at myself in the mirror and see past the reflection. I wish I could look into my eyes and see more than what meets the eye. Am I making it more worse than what it really should be? Do I sound as if I'm exaggerating? Maybe its just one of those things that I'm writing and yet I am really not feeling all of this. But, I wouldn't make it up. I couldn't make up or write these feelings unless I'm pretending to be another character. Maybe I'm just living another life of JayLise...My writers name. Or maybe it is the good life that I want to pretend from her. I see that I have so many things to be thankful for, so why is it that the darkness and the negative are what wraps itself around me? I see it in the moment...yet shortly after anger comes in and I am blind to all the good. Sometimes I feel as if I'm just walking in a mist of emotions and then numb myself to them all so that I don't have to feel. Thats why the drug feels so good at times. I don't feel, I don't think...I just am in the moment. Yet, that must stop. I must learn to feel. I must face it...but facing it is what has me turn around.

It's a scary thing not knowing when I'm going to go into those modes. You know, those that I am really low and I'm walking in space. I don't have any gravity holding me down. It's those days that I truly let go of all I go through and I want to just fly away...float in my own world. It's days like those that I wish to just be taken away into another place without a care in the world. I just want to get out of this cage of life and fly.