Tags » Hopelessness


I have gazed out that window pane of pain for years and my heart has broken bit by bit.Tiny shards that slit slices of thinning flesh in my insistently punctured soul.Covering my wounds in shame because the past and the present collide.Nothing surprises me anymore as I lay here bleeding out upon the stones thrown years and years.Can I conceal another full on blow.Caring carelessly contradicts itself because I am battle born.Worn from years of dealing with the emptiness I have so long known.No matter where I seem to wander you have something to say about it but I am a prodigal girl.Traveling a rough path in which ends in this cell.Shackled.Sold into this familiar hell cut by your constant scorn.Can I do right by you or will I forever remain cast into the category of a demon in your strict coiling cursing eyes.Am I the monster you say I am or am I just the creature that lived by a different sword.One un-approved of.What I love was crushed and forced away because I protected them from you though it was I who paid the price as I mourned loss over and over until it was all numb but the rotting goes on.Myself you won’t let me find because eternally it seems I have been confided.My mistakes are my own and the way it seems I will always have to play perfect of die of the acid you use to burn me alive.I howl for a way to escape.Any place.Anywhere where I can rest my tired essence and live a life finally that is my own.I love you but you have to let me lead my own destiny or turn me into that nightmarish thing you dread.Though I have prayed so many nights to die …that cruel bitch they call fate won’t give me that reward.Forgotten would be nice.I cannot be what you want me to be.It is impossible.So take off the lock or watch me walk to a world hidden from thee.A sea undiscovered.Beyond your grasp.



Have you ever been inspired by something? Maybe a great speech, or a seminar you attended, or even a song that really hit you in your core? 453 more words


Untitled 2


I see people.

Do people see me?

Sometimes they do.

Sometimes they don’t.

What do they see?

Do they see me?

What is me? 18 more words


when Life turns into a bad soap opera

“forever is composed of nows ”

– Emily Dickinson

Author’s note : There are certain things that Miss Dickinson says, that stay with you , and continue to bother you for the rest of your life .This quote is one of them, for it states the importance of the living present and reminds us, that what we though of as perhaps the everlasting story of our lives is nothing more than procrastination and unsatisfactory blogging.   326 more words

My Death Letter


I expected so much from you.


I always imagined this could be an enjoyable place.


You broke my heart time and time again. 67 more words


bored to tears

Tonight my mother will be making fish. I saw the heads and tails were still on them. I won’t be eating that tonight, because ewww. I know that is how they come but her having to dissect them just freaks me out. 827 more words


The cultural imperative of survival

Most blogs on depression tend toward one (or both) of two themes:  “I’m having another bad day, and I don’t know whether I can hang on,” and, “The main thing is to hang in there!  470 more words