I have been most of my life.
Overlooked, invisible, underestimated, irrelevant, not worthwhile.
I can pour my heart out and no one listens. I can bleed all over these keys and it gets washed away without a second glance.
Pain. My life is pain. Living is pain. In fact I don't remember a time, as far back as my memory can go, that I was truely happy. Everything is colored with pain, or memories of pain.
My earliest memories are of my most trusted and beloved person taking my love and trust and satisfying perverted desires with it. Then are the memories of mental illness that has hovered over every waking and every sleeping hour of my life. Dictating what I do each day.
Fear, panic as early as 5, daily panic and fear.
In order to go see one of my kids play sports, I couldn't eat all day, then I'd have to take Immodium and xanax just to get to the baseball field. And Pray that I made it.
I can't go on anymore. I am just tired of it. I'll be better tomorrow but right now, I am just tired.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment