Where to begin. With all these thoughts you would think it would be easy to express how it is exactly that I am feeling.
From waves of rainbows and beaming lights to wallowing upon my own deadly thoughts directing me to my death bed.
I've been told countless times you get from the world what you can give. Whether that be negative energy or a passion for something, someone like no other.
I like to think I hold something genuine and unique. A multitude of bad experiences directing me to the right ones. The good ones.
In the last few weeks I have barely said one unkind word. Every time I catch my mind wandering to a hollow hole I am sure to try and bring myself home again.
Someone like I is not bad, someone like I just needs something more from this world that is different than others. Yes! I strive for money and a way of living that makes me healthy and happy. Though I yearn for a journey no one I know of has begun - or maybe never will.
It's in the way I talk. The way I love. The way I write. The way I fight.
I am not ordinary therefore no, I do not fit in with ordinary people.
Do you know anyone ORDINARY that is fulfilling?
I see more than meets the eye.
I hear more than your ear drums do.
I feel more, inside and out.
Every touch, every thought leaving a mark; imprinting on my soul.
Why should someone love me?
Because I give to those who never gave to me.
I give some things that I have never had but desire therefore willing to give on in the hopes it is one day returned.
Why am I the way that I am?
I finally figured it out.
Like I said, I seek what I haven't had, the things I want.
I only saw my fathers work ethic which consisted of him barely being in the same state or suburbs as
Using that as a guide to never be jobless, or at least for long.
The panic attacks I saw my mother have being my source of breathing when things are too heavy for I.
It's hard for me to love a man. When too many of them have physically and mentally abused those around me including myself.
I do have separation anxiety. I am finally saying it out loud to those I love. Friends, family, my love.
Not because I can't stand to be alone, but because I am afraid they too will leave and hurt me. Every friend, most family members are gone. Like dust in the wind. Oblivion.
Some say it's my fault, others inevitable and others dead.
How is one meant to live on after their step father records them bare skinned, under age, over the duration of one and a half years/.
I must remind those and myself of the battles I had once faced. In your time it seems like a life time ago, in mine it was just yesterday.
One day saying goodnight to my beautiful family and the next being separated by court dates and a drug I hadn't fully understand beforehand.
I lost everything. My friends, my home, my sister, my brother, my mother, my sanity. My soul.
When someone tells me they are concerned, I laugh in mockery.
I would love to see who else survives the things that I have experienced.
I couldn't trust my own biological father after that when he had nothing.
I still - 3 years later cannot communicate with my mother because of this buried anger that never escaped. That no one helped me let go of.
No one told me that it wasn't my fault. No one told me they would love me unconditionally. No one told me everything is going to be okay.
So every day since Feburary 18th 2015 I have fought to create tht closure I don't even know I will ever recieve.
Because still, to this day, I have not been punished, or mocked, or judged for feeling this broken anxious, depression that grips hold of me.
No one picked me up when I was lifeless, breathless on the floor doubting myself or our relationship.
No one said good bye before they left, I had to figure that out on my own.
How could I let go of graduation day. Standing alone, peering into the crowd as my eyes pool.
"Where is everyone?".
So I ask again, 2 years later nearly to the day.
Where is everyone?
I laughed again.
The rowers I now see regularly remind me of the potential that I still behold. I can be and do whatever it is I would like.
I am not a bad person, I have had bad happen to me and this is how I learnt to cope; to survive.
I seek acceptance. As I am. No changes required.
Just like I do to those I love.
For some reason they had me convinced I was unable to be loved.
I was told love was being cheated on. I was told love was the people who keyed my car. I was told that love was my best friend telling me, me and my mothers were nasty names. I was told love was a father (no matter what) and then being recorded. I was told love is what I don't have for myself.
So tell me viewers, how is me not surviving, not loving myself?
Tell me how the novels I imagine words of on the back of my eye lids not passion?
Tell me how the fact that after everything I have seen, I encourage the women in my family to rise above it, even on the days I'm sipping on a bottle of wine questioning the reasons I am in fact still alive.
That's when I am reminded; God has bigger plans for I otherwise my existence would be gone, forever.
The biggest mistake I ever made was listening to anyone else other than God and myself.
Strangers practically telling me who I am is bad, wrong, unfair and unworthy. Not beautiful.
People that I had once helped, that still know so little about the steps I have taken.
From 70kgs, to 50kgs of body fat.. From smoking to not.. From sleeping the pain away to walking every day.
From dreaming to making these moves reality.
..
Like a game of chess, like a pawn in a bigger game.
I am better than what I am told.
It's like reading a random chapter in the middle of the best novel. It probably won't make much sense and by this point full of plot twists and every novelist knows that the middle of the book is where everything takes place whether that be a broken heart, someone on the run or trying to break out of a prison cell.
To be continued
From waves of rainbows and beaming lights to wallowing upon my own deadly thoughts directing me to my death bed.
I've been told countless times you get from the world what you can give. Whether that be negative energy or a passion for something, someone like no other.
I like to think I hold something genuine and unique. A multitude of bad experiences directing me to the right ones. The good ones.
In the last few weeks I have barely said one unkind word. Every time I catch my mind wandering to a hollow hole I am sure to try and bring myself home again.
Someone like I is not bad, someone like I just needs something more from this world that is different than others. Yes! I strive for money and a way of living that makes me healthy and happy. Though I yearn for a journey no one I know of has begun - or maybe never will.
It's in the way I talk. The way I love. The way I write. The way I fight.
I am not ordinary therefore no, I do not fit in with ordinary people.
Do you know anyone ORDINARY that is fulfilling?
I see more than meets the eye.
I hear more than your ear drums do.
I feel more, inside and out.
Every touch, every thought leaving a mark; imprinting on my soul.
Why should someone love me?
Because I give to those who never gave to me.
I give some things that I have never had but desire therefore willing to give on in the hopes it is one day returned.
Why am I the way that I am?
I finally figured it out.
Like I said, I seek what I haven't had, the things I want.
I only saw my fathers work ethic which consisted of him barely being in the same state or suburbs as
Using that as a guide to never be jobless, or at least for long.
The panic attacks I saw my mother have being my source of breathing when things are too heavy for I.
It's hard for me to love a man. When too many of them have physically and mentally abused those around me including myself.
I do have separation anxiety. I am finally saying it out loud to those I love. Friends, family, my love.
Not because I can't stand to be alone, but because I am afraid they too will leave and hurt me. Every friend, most family members are gone. Like dust in the wind. Oblivion.
Some say it's my fault, others inevitable and others dead.
How is one meant to live on after their step father records them bare skinned, under age, over the duration of one and a half years/.
I must remind those and myself of the battles I had once faced. In your time it seems like a life time ago, in mine it was just yesterday.
One day saying goodnight to my beautiful family and the next being separated by court dates and a drug I hadn't fully understand beforehand.
I lost everything. My friends, my home, my sister, my brother, my mother, my sanity. My soul.
When someone tells me they are concerned, I laugh in mockery.
I would love to see who else survives the things that I have experienced.
I couldn't trust my own biological father after that when he had nothing.
I still - 3 years later cannot communicate with my mother because of this buried anger that never escaped. That no one helped me let go of.
No one told me that it wasn't my fault. No one told me they would love me unconditionally. No one told me everything is going to be okay.
So every day since Feburary 18th 2015 I have fought to create tht closure I don't even know I will ever recieve.
Because still, to this day, I have not been punished, or mocked, or judged for feeling this broken anxious, depression that grips hold of me.
No one picked me up when I was lifeless, breathless on the floor doubting myself or our relationship.
No one said good bye before they left, I had to figure that out on my own.
How could I let go of graduation day. Standing alone, peering into the crowd as my eyes pool.
"Where is everyone?".
So I ask again, 2 years later nearly to the day.
Where is everyone?
I laughed again.
The rowers I now see regularly remind me of the potential that I still behold. I can be and do whatever it is I would like.
I am not a bad person, I have had bad happen to me and this is how I learnt to cope; to survive.
I seek acceptance. As I am. No changes required.
Just like I do to those I love.
For some reason they had me convinced I was unable to be loved.
I was told love was being cheated on. I was told love was the people who keyed my car. I was told that love was my best friend telling me, me and my mothers were nasty names. I was told love was a father (no matter what) and then being recorded. I was told love is what I don't have for myself.
So tell me viewers, how is me not surviving, not loving myself?
Tell me how the novels I imagine words of on the back of my eye lids not passion?
Tell me how the fact that after everything I have seen, I encourage the women in my family to rise above it, even on the days I'm sipping on a bottle of wine questioning the reasons I am in fact still alive.
That's when I am reminded; God has bigger plans for I otherwise my existence would be gone, forever.
The biggest mistake I ever made was listening to anyone else other than God and myself.
Strangers practically telling me who I am is bad, wrong, unfair and unworthy. Not beautiful.
People that I had once helped, that still know so little about the steps I have taken.
From 70kgs, to 50kgs of body fat.. From smoking to not.. From sleeping the pain away to walking every day.
From dreaming to making these moves reality.
..
Like a game of chess, like a pawn in a bigger game.
I am better than what I am told.
It's like reading a random chapter in the middle of the best novel. It probably won't make much sense and by this point full of plot twists and every novelist knows that the middle of the book is where everything takes place whether that be a broken heart, someone on the run or trying to break out of a prison cell.
To be continued
No comments:
Post a Comment