Hear My Complaint

No one wants to hear you complain, to hear your words, or understand there pain.
I can understand a Boundry, a line that shouldn't be crossed.
But if I have no one tot turn to when I need to talk...well then what do I do?
You not listening tells me I'm not worth it, that you have better things to attend to. That my place on this earth isn't worth considering. That my feelings and emotions are trash in this world of garbage that you just do not want to touch.
Who do I have if I am alone?
Honestly, I believe we are not meant to be alone. If we were, why are there so many of us? And if only certain people are precious, why were the rest of us born? If only a few are meant to be saved. Why bother at all with that claim, all are loved? Its a lie. It's a crime. Shameful to believe I am worth breathing at all.
You have left me speechless, because why speak if I will never be heard. Why be honest if it only hurts? You never care so then what happens...
People who are not heard find away...through pain...through suffering.....through burns....When people hurt, if not cared for, will hurt others, or themselves.
I hurt myself.
I am alone.
I don't matter.
I never did.
Did I?
All I ever wanted to was to let the world know they are loved....and all it did in return was kick me away, breaking me into pieces, and shattering my life to nothing.
If no one is willing to listen, even when I do, I always did, I was always there, no matter at what cost to me...but no, not for me. I am nothing and no one will listen to nothing....

How To Live

Today I've found I'm not myself. I don't know is i ever was. Broken. Forever. But maybe I have worth. I was told today by a stranger, some one I barely know, that I do. I don't know what to think about it. I can't process it, really. How do I deal? I do I survive? How do I live....

Asking The Why

How long must you be lost before some one comes calling?
When is it do they actually care?
The lies that filled the air to procure the satisfaction of your need. Infested the ears of all that must hear. The song of you silver tong threading the wicked path you chose to take, leaving me in your wake.
You never cared.
It was all a lie.
I believed it could change.
I believed all people were nice, somewhere inside. We could all find that kindness to share with the world. Not be another vulture, a leech to suck the life out of the world.
I want more. I want there to be hope. A future. Truth. Above all truth.
Fear kept me from being. Fear starved me of life. Terror ceased joy of any kind, wringing the life from it. No hope but death. My only friend. So many times I wish you had finished what you had started those evil days. Taken my broken life and shattered its frame. I wish I would have not been stopped. I wish I had not been saved. I wish I could have been set free from the prison you lock me in. Unwilling. Unprotected. A tool. A toy. I am just nothing. I never was. I wish I could be set free from the binding you put on me.
I wish.
I had never been born to be in this world. To feel the taint. To be a waste of breathing space. I know I am lame, but this is all I have. I am to afraid to be anywhere else. People....scare me. I cannot express the fear that has been imprinted upon my broken heart. You hurt me, and you never cared.
After all I sacrificed and this how I am repaid...with brutality. Is that love? To be abused after you give, and love, and encourage, and whatever else it takes to make people happy, hopeful, cared for, loved...is this all there is to look forward to....

Why I Ramble

I can't stop hurting. I may never stop. I all I can ever see is the pain you caused me. I hope you're happy. Doing your gods work, beating down the broken.........when i die i will die well, with pain and agony, may my wish be reflected upon eyes of hate....
How do you convince some one to just let you go......damn

Exposure To Trauma

Imagine have not one but numerable encounters with trauma. Surrounded by an atmosphere one should not be in as a new born/toddler; sex, drug ,rock and roll.1,2,3,4,5 car accidents, one almost fatal. Parents in separate almost fatal car accidents. a private school your family couldn't afford, and people knew it, that treated you as if you would never amount to anything. Verbal bullying from peers as a child. 15-20 funerals in my short lifetime. Uncle steals from you as a child, does drug in front of you. Molested by a cousin, who lived with us. He died.....And on and on...I could stop there, but There is so much more to my story, so much more horrible things.
I had an ideal growing up, of who I wanted to be, virtues I gleaned from the huge bundles of reading I did, after awhile reading became a survival tool. The people I would read about, my heroes  the people I wanted to be like, were real, they had issues, they pains, but they persevered through it all, be came stronger. Were amazing people that everyone loved, well except those who hated the fact that they were loved. But they were selfless, hard working, charming, mannered, sure, helpful, loving of all, kind of people. Yea they made mistakes, but they always cared. That is what I wanted to be. And that is what I have always striven for, until very recently  For with time and the multiple efforts of evil in the world, I slowly and painfully began loosing all of my self-worth, yet continued to give, to love, with that being my only desire, to love and hopefully be loved. Alas, I never felt what true love should have felt like. Abuse, abuse, abuse. So much trauma there are days, months, sometimes years I cannot remember because my being was so hurt it couldn't stand it. I began to be 'taught' that I was worthless, only to be used and abused, little less than garbage. Yet. still I stove to share love with the world. But all it did was take, my virtues, my essence, my life. I am an empty shell now that is suspended in this time to be tormented by my thoughts and memories. I have been so depressed most of my life my internal self began to self-destruct, not only by the people that surrounded me but by the pain I caused myself  I have been completely drained of a normal life by all the trauma I have been forced to experience. I've lost and organ, I can't eat, I can't sleep, my short term memory is completely impaired, my emotions are a storm, I have no control, I am loosing, I am lost. I am terrified of living, life and all the other things in it. I have had the ability to enjoy life taken from me. Ripped from me with brutal force. With no mercy. Trauma is not something to laugh at. It is not a joke. The pain you caused is permanent. I am forever marked by your evil.

Meaning Of Songs

Having everything ripped out, torn apart, I have found that I have been given the ability to be wide open, if I allow it. I have found that pain can be such a conduit, if people submit to such a thing, to being free of what hate and evil and deception and lies have done to a soul. With this openness I have come to experience a whole new side to my comfort music. Words that have bring tears to my eyes because that emotion swells within me. The words sound as if they are coming from inside me. I can understand them so much deeper. The pain has cut me all the way through and the knowledge and experience just pour in to the very depths of every fiber of my being. I understand whole, never completely, we cannot as incomplete, imperfect creatures. Yet, when we allow it, our depth of understanding can beyond something galactic  even dimensional I dare say. When we rise up through the ashes, knowing we are burnt, broken, and in ways un-reparable, but we learn an entirely new thing about ourselves, others, and of course life. I may be burning in the sorrows from the crushing blow of evils vice, but I am cleansed by the fire of truth and love. I have found how real, how true some people can actually be.

Hating That Love

Tonight I wait, tonight I sit pondering writing of love, well on what love has done to one in the worst of ways. It is not for the one I cherish most that I read these bitter, hateful, sorrowful words, no I read them for the ways I have been treated by "those" other people in my life. Well my past. Who had sworn the truth that they loved me. What sweet little lies they started as. So tasty for me to swallow, so much easier to digest their poison. Ah, what can I do. At some points I feel it was my fault for trusting. For me so broken. For liking to be broken. Years of therapy and books, so many books, to help me overcome. But I like books. They have always been truth worthy friends. And I have gleaned so much from theses books. Words and ways that I have never had the fortune of experiencing or learning. Which I could blame, maybe should blame, on my up bringing, parents, adults, surroundings, blah blah and whatever else. But truly what is the use. So is the biggest part, the truest reason for what I was, however, now I have a choice. To be whatever they had molded me to be. Or fucking step up and shove all their hypocrisy down their sore throats and watch them squirm. Hm. Na, to much work I'll just plan on living a happy life for now and see ho it goes, who knows I might actually like this.

Me, The Story

Your first thoughts, your very first memories, what are they? Usually an image we can't make out or flashes of color we can't quite piece together. My first, it is the image of a mirror. A mirrored wall to be more accurate. It was the image of the living room of the house I spent my first couple of years on this planet. A place that would become the petri-dish for the disease that would, for a lifetime, fester inside of me. And that mirror will forever be a reminder, of what, well, what does my reflection show?
I haven't always known, to this day I can't even visually remember what happened in that house, my home. Home, an idea that would be shattered and twisted for so long to me, and I never even knew it. Anyways, that first house was where it all started, for the shell that is me anyway. My body can remember much better then my mind can, ever will perhaps. My tiny body was violated. For the longest time what I felt, what I experienced, I thought it was normal. However, I couldn't help but feel dirty. Wrong. Very wrong. Shortly there after we gave up that house for shack in the middle god-forsaken land. Burned and brittle, with very little to offer. The memories come in flashes. I remember school. Being sick, so sick, so often. I remember, the, the bullies. The names I was called. I remember Relatives. Their violent actions. I remember when I first fell like I could never trust anyone. I was in kindergarten. I remember always being left out. Not being good enough. I remember the first time some one told me I was worthless. That was my cousin. My brothers hadn't even been born yet. My mother gave birth to four of us wretched creatures. Raised us she did, with my father. My poor sister. Her teacher didn't like her. She had a hard time, fitting in, being focused. I tried to be strong for her, for us both. I remember that car we almost died in. My mother, my new born brother, my sister...someone...else. I remember pain. And blood. I remember being hated and not knowing why. I remember taunting back, so I didn't feel, so weak. That day when our mother hid us away from the world. No more school. Our parents would be our teacher. I became the teacher, for myself. For my sister and my two brothers. My mother became, angry. Hateful. Hurtful. My father, he stopped being at home. I remember screaming, fighting, things being thrown. Protecting my siblings, playing with them, trying to keep them safe. I remember the heat, sometimes unbearable. Over 120* at times. I remember the cold. Freezing winters. No electricity. No running water. Most of my life, that is the way it had been. It was so hard to keep cool or keep from freezing. I remember those days when we weren't sure if we would eat. Only bread. I remember making it a game with the little ones. I know how much they struggled, my parents. The couldn't hide, most of the time they didn't from me. I'm not sure why. Then mom got a job. I became the parents. I was just becoming a teen. Then other people came into our lives. Before it had only been us, all the time, every time. We became apart of our "community", as some might call it. Enmeshed even more others would say. I didn't know. I never understood. How can you when all you know is all you have been taught? This "community" was very good at "using" their "resources". I remember being used often. Most of my girl friends, well let's just say I know what a verbal punching bag is. I was an ego buster for them. And for the guys, well, I was there toy. And there was nothing I could do, why, because I was worthless. I had been told that since I was five, since I five. It had been well ingrained into me. What I felt didn't matter. Especially if my mother was "helping" someone. They needed her and she could help them. She thought we were safe. You should be safe, in your own home, in your own bed. I began to feel a if that was all I was good for, that was the only kind of love for me. That was real love, being used. I am worthless after all. I remember when my Grandmother died. She went for a visit with our Uncle and never came back. It was the first time I saw my tough father cry. It was out fault, Uncle said. And we didn't see him again. I remember loosing our home. I remember friends dying. Those first bruises my the "boys" who "loved" me, sometimes I swear I can still feel them. It was just a game. If I didn't please. I remember being touched. Hating it. Liking it. Hating myself for liking it. I remember the first time a that thin blade pierced my skin. The first time I felt in-control. I felt real. I felt at all. I remember reading others words to hide in a dream. I remember drawing life to forget the night-terrors, unable to wake myself. Dancing and poetry to express things I felt I could never say. With each passing day of this life I sank farther and farther into despair. I remember so hard trying to not exist. Trying to die. I wanted that. So much. That little putrid glass dish had become an uncontrollable illness of mass proportions. I was no longer a human. I so I feel as I look back. Just an empty shell, a fragile doll about to break.
Then the worst year of my life happened. Someone I hated worked their way into my already shattered life and obliterated it. I despised this person when first meeting. After my mother decided to help someone there was nothing anyone could say. And like all atrocious circumstances, he gravitated towards me. He lived with us, he did everything with us. It was easy for him to sink his fangs into me. His poison slowly yet surely took me over and I had lost what little I had had. I took everything from me. My heart, My soul, My virtue. I had never felt more disgusting. I felt like it was all I had to look forward to. He was everywhere. Then it happened. I had missed a month. Then another. But then I didn't. I was regular. Or so I thought. No I had a life growing inside of me. Then there was the fire, making us flee. Then the pain that sent me to the hospital. The life had come out and almost took me with it. Then deaths. Homeless. Many deaths.
For the first ever, I was to leave my family. I was going off to school. Alone. So many emotions. I never could fit well with others. I hate money. A few months went by and my father had a stroke. He was so helpless. It was horrible. That was thanksgiving. That christmas, however, would prove to be the worst day of that year. Or just a reminder of how crap, is my life. My father, still half crippled from the stroke that almost took him away, was accused of attempted murder...with a shot gun. He was swept away to prison. Unknown to us. That was a very long holiday. He was sick, invalid. We had no idea were he was. And then a week later there he was. Broken. What hell was, he knew.
That spring something amazing came into my life. My beloved Sora. The first person to make me feel like a person. I wish we had been a little bit stronger. He was the first person I told my life to. That following christmas, after he had ask my father, he asked me to marry him. I became a bit closer to reality, a little farther away from the family and all I knew. Or for awhile.
We married, what a day I couldn't wait to be over. My family almost made it unbearable. They, still to this day, believed I was being stolen. Didn't help much that they didn't prize my college graduation a few weeks earlier either. Things I had worked so hard for. All on my own. A broken doll trying to dance. In the following years I found out it wouldn't happen for long. That it should never of have. But I couldn't be who I am with out it. For the next several years would drain me down to the very last drop of life. Any passion I ever had for life, for faith, for love, siphoned away by greed leeches. I trusted people. I gave all I had and they took. I worked for this place for five years. I couldn't never please them. The path that they claimed to follow was not what it ever was really about. There were souls whom I came to love dearly. So many of them I fought for. Trying to show them love I had never experienced. They eagerly took but gave not much if anything back. A family That I took on as my own. As I should had been aware, it was a bad idea. Why? because the worst of the broken are drawn to me, and I cannot but help to let them feed off of me. I am worthless. Do what ye will. I didn't even know what was happening to me. How much more could someone be made to feel worthless? What was I? I had no faith? I wasn't strong enough. I would never be good enough. Then it all fell apart like the lie I didn't see it as. Those who I believed cared where only in it for their own agendas. No one believed in me. Was I really that awful of  person? I had done wrong. My worst mistakes were weakness. Wanting abuse and not knowing. being drawn to it. I trust snakes paints as flowers. They laid their trap, neatly bonded by what they were. The mistake of not being able to see what it was I needed. Of what they were. Abuse, any kind. It's want I needed to feel real. I didn't. Huh, now I do. How sad is the heart that helps with desires of its own, only to. I was , am so incredibly broken. I never believed I was perfect. Above anyone. In fact I believed I was lower. I always said that. Yet no one would lift me up. Not even half efforts at best. Just so they could keep me around a little longer to take what they needed from me. Now I tried harder then ever to take my life. I was so close. I was almost gone. Just a few more pills. A little more blood.
But no my beloved Sora had found his strength, and he fought for me. For months I lay here in recovery and he still fights. I look back at my life and finally feel as if I am alive. Because he loves me. His love is amazing. He fights so hard. We have been through so much. I have known a struggle or two. But I finally believe that love is more than a fairytale. That life can be real, and happy. That Bad things may happen but our choices are what can make ore break us in the end. What path we take is our choice. I could have had a much harder life. I could have made worse choices. I have love now and I will fight to keep it. This is no flight of fancy. I know it is more then a feeling. This will never disappear because we won't let it. It will change. It will grow. But it will forever be ours.
Now, now I will live in the future.
And just maybe, I am worth something...

What's In It

My days are lonely. My days are long. Whats the point in pushing? In asking for the hope, the hand of another? I am meant to be alone. It is better this way, so my darkness can't spread. So I can't be an influence that kills the joys of living, the price solitude takes is nothing short of everything. My sanity breaks with each hour spent separated, in space and time, from the whole of anything. I having a longing. To have never been born, to not exist, to have never tainted a life. I am so broken I can't even hold water. I just keep coming back to that question. Why let anyone in? Why hold the company of others? So that I can welcome them in, expose myself to ravaging creatures of a fallen word? So that without warning they devour my soul, consume my heart leaving me an empty shell. Oh, wait I did that at that's where I am at at this moment. A pathetic lonely being with nothing to give, nothing to have. My sorrows are even worthlessly wasted. What will become of me? I wish he could let me go, like everyone eventually does. I want to die without hurting another soul. Without spreading my curse.