Life Is Death

There is this rotting pain, deep in my stomach. Churning, burning, fuming...disgusting. I feel hurt. I feel hate. I feel...to much. I feel numb.
The memories burned in to the back of my eye lids that haunt me in my sleep. But darkness fills my days. My mind can't make sense of it all, sadly, my body does. The reactions of actions taken so long ago, or maybe not that long ago.
Some children were killed today. By a very broken person. They morn for the children. I can see why. I wish I could be one of them...so I would have to deal with the shit I've been through. So I could be set free. But yeah, morn for them. I suppose I do. Innocence lost. Souls who watched, burdened, forever, Stained. This society doesn't care enough about the things that could help this...no we talk about guns and rights. That man had a right. Not to kill. Not to hurt. That is never a right. Taking a life is a heavy burden, any one who can so willing rip life away, well, there are consequences for them.
Life should be seen as precious. He was broken, and not enough was done to save that man...who could have saved all those children...
But what does this society care about other peoples "issues". Nothing, right?
Mental health is a big deal. But we don't make it that. Violence. We accept it, unless it happens in real life or to us. We are a sick country. It isn't about the guns. It isn't about our rights. It is about our communities and our health. Two things that have slid dip into the ditch where no one cares to look or dig it up out of. This will continue to happen. People will die in awful ways.
People will kill themselves.
People will treat others like shit.
Because...we have lost our morals.
We have lost it all.
Because we are not as caring a community as we claim. Or today wouldn't have happened. Stress is a killer, and it doesn't care who it takes down or how many. Evil lurks in the sweetest of places.
Those of us who have to sit and morn alone, for the prices we've had to pay for evil, for the crimes silently made against us. The nation will never know. They will never, ever care. If anything I suffer more because, why, well it isn't ever simple. Wicked people are broken people. People society pushes aside, ignores them and hopes they will go away.
You as a society created this. and you know it.
There are worse things that happen every day and we can't scream loud enough for anyone to care, especially never morn, for the things we have lost and will never, ever get back.
I am a sad lonely creature who will probably die alone. But so what. No one will morn for me.
Something I am to slowly coming to terms with.
I once was so in love with love, and service and hope, and joy, and life....but they stole that and now I seem nothing more then an old bitter crone....so sad,

I feel Lost

I don't know why, for sure, the actually reasons. I hurt. I'm lonely. I'm crying. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't. I cant do this. I just feel done. Wonder aimlessly through the forest. Shock my brain into amnesia...forget what so many have forgotten. Forget what so many have no idea.

Hating My Nightmares

I take medications to quiet them and still, they find ways o haunt me. To get into my head. My scramble the reception of a clean mind. Mumble, mumble. haha. I hate those nightmares. Especially the ones with those demons. The ones that chase me. The ones that did the most in human things possible. Making me feel the worthlessness I am. It seems to seep into every pore, and nothing I can do makes it go away, I can't even wash enough. eventually it fades to a mild ping, a small thought, a distant memory. What a curse. What a fear. Ha, who knew caring for people could be such a crime. Loving the broken really does get you crucified. I am no saviour. I am a sad, worthless creature who cannot find any purpose more then that of pain. Maybe I need stronger medication...

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....

What About Storms

I really love them, I at least that is what I might say. They could be wonderful. They could be sweet. Listening to the rain come down, listening to it pour. The wind whipping tree, the wind tossing waves. So glorious a sight. So mighty a fright. What a time to cuddle, bundle, and read.
I sorta still feel that way...
But it's not like I actually hate them, I just hate them. Storms. Remindeers of my turmoil of a life. raging like the open see in hurricane winds. no shelter. No hope. No survival. Ship wrecked and broken and sunken to the bottom of the sea. Storms, reminding me of my loneliness, so close and yet so far, so distant are we. Family, friends, who are they? This storm goes on for days. Locking me inside, reminding me of my cage. They places I could never escape, no matter what I tried. Death wouldn't even free me from those horrid claws, with such an evil grasp. Yes storms remind me of the darkness daily consuming me. No light will ever shine here because the sun has died on this dreary planet. Alone in space to drowned. They are such awful things, storms. Taking away the little joys in life giving you no reason to hope. Hold noting close, for it will surly be swept away. god awful storms...

Beware Your Heart

Beware what you set your heart upon for it shall surely be yours" -Ralph Waldo Emerson. Whether is a conscious or unconscious thought, desire. Even if it was something forced into our hearts, built there by others, we will inevitably fall to it. Whatever our heart have been set up upon. It is so sad. To be a product of such. What a horrible price one must pay for the burdens of others. Why is it the weak are blamed for the wicked ways of the broken, corrupted bitter souls of this world? I am so weak. So sad. So broken. I have no faith. In people. in anything. In myself. I never, ever have...

A Lonely Life

I have come to realize that even if I am surrounded by People, by Things. You can have people that care and people that hate you. You can have the small things you treasure so close, or piles of items all around. You can have the deepest love of the most precious person ever created and yet...feel so very alone. It can seem like you have so much, but do you really have anything at all? I feel as such. Like I could be fulfilled. Like I could have everything. That I could be satisfied...but it will never happen. I would long for hope in vain. Nothing of it, nothing for it. Its such a sad, pathetic existence. Truly who can save me from sorrows? Alas, no one. It's fine. I know I complain a lot. I suppose more then I have right to, which should be not at all I suppose. Yet here I am, hm. However, I am beginning to feel as if I'll become content in my world of pain and turmoil. Well, what can I say about it? You cannot reassure me. So here I'll sit, on my lonely planet of desert sorrow filled with dry painful sands. Yes, here I'll be.