I used to pity you, and all that you had gone through. Every action that had led to the scars on your heart, all the wrong you did not deserve. That is until I discovered the vengeance you seek in those you find unworthy. What defines worth, my dear? To you, the expectations on value and respect are never held to your own doing. So what defines worth? Innocent souls trip on mistakes in your path and you condemn them for life. What defines worth? You do realize that this pattern of defining another’s worth, to you, is a viscous cycle of revenge, right?
You will never find happiness and peace while battling a non-existent war. Look around, my dear, for you have wounded those around you who have had nothing but love for you. Hearts that have been misplaced due to your lack of empathy and self serving actions. I hope you finally get what you are looking for, however, I really hope you get what you deserve.
She approached me in all black
With her fingers dipped in gold
I tried to get some answers
But her responses left me cold
She gazed out of the window
And was speechless for some time
She turned to me and whispered
“I miss that light inside my eyes”
I still can’t believe the levels of absolute sorrow you built for me, slowly pushing me into insanity. You absolutely crushed me, destroyed every broken piece of me until you were satisfied enough to walk away. I was too soft between your rough fingers, begging you to hold me gentle, you ignored all of my pleads. I begged and groveled at your feet for forgiveness for mistakes that I now realize I was never at fault for. All I desired was acceptance but you made sure to give me nothing but denial.
Your insecurities are not worth
The emotional distress
Yet you continue to let
Your insecurities define your worth
A night full of cries and tired eyes
As the moon decidedly falls
The sun will rise and you will find
A new day within the same walls
It wasn’t until I could see the moon rise that I decided to make my way outside to the wooden swing that gently swayed in the wind. After navigating through the dark, I sat down and felt the soft breeze that leaked through the forest behind me gently touch the parts of me that were uncovered. I tried everything I could to organize my thoughts, slow my breathing, and find some sort of peace in the chaos that wrecked my mind. Unfortunately, this type of madness stems from the depths of wounds even I wasn’t aware existed.
I stared into a blank piece of lined paper for possibly an hour, following the margins and tracing the outside edges of the page with my pen. It was unlike me to draw a blank and yet here I was, emptier than I could ever imagine. What could I possibly write? How could I possibly articulate a feeling of nothing.
Impending emotions grow heavy on my chest as mental turns to physical and I am no longer capable of repressing. Not even the sound of my dog’s steady breathing soothes me as I continue to act as though I’m capable of refusing reality. In times like these I would desperately reach out, a phone call away, you’d promise me comfort and soon after I would drift to sleep.
Instead, I find myself in a constant state of self doubt. What was real? What was fake? Who was I to you and who did I become? Never have I ever found myself habitually questioning my own being. Never have I questioned my own words. But I understand now, I understand that sometimes after all is said and done, words turn into nothing.
It’s quiet. I can hear the ticking of the new clock behind me on the wall, yet time cannot seem to wake me. It is on days like this that I wish someone heard the “quiet” that haunts me. The emptiness that has somehow, without substance, crawled its way into the loudest parts of me, and shut them down.