Welcome Home

On a fine day like many others
you would return for a moment
just a flicker, a reintroduction
or a simple pass
In my heart,
I wish it would last

I missed you, welcome home
and you would bid me the same
We'd discuss your success
and I'd tend to your struggles

Alas, all that I wish
that wasn't a figment
conjured in my very mind

I see it as a bright picture,
full of radiant color- shunning despair
my despair, for I know not of you

I've come to terms now-
I don't matter, I am easily replaced
I exist only to hinder
the perfection of your life

I sincerely hope,
that some day soon,
you will come back to this home
and I will not open it's doors-
to a stranger.

"How I long, how I long to grow old."

Waiting for life to get easier is like asking the sun to never shine again. I don't think I'm capable of happiness, I think that I subconsciously shield it from myself as if it would do me harm. I wish I didn't feel like I was going insane with each passing day.

"Hold me fast, I'm a hopeless wanderer."

My life isn't difficult. It sucks more than a lot of the time, but one would agree that I have a decent life. Even typing those words and I feel like I'm spewing bullshit. Each life is as difficult as it is depending on the type of person that you are. No, I don't starve or crave water day in and day out, but everyone lives in a different world, a world only that person knows. And I believe that my life is heading for the worst. Things, things things- keep piling up on my shoulders and the weight is so unbearable that I feel the strain in my heart, as if I could feel the weight directly on the little weak thing. My chest feels as though it is constructed only of pointy objects, and every time I move an inch I feel the pain of sadness. It's different this time, in the way that I wait around for my pain to subside like it did so many times before, when I know that it won't. It's different in the way that I don't have the energy or care to talk to anybody about it. It's different in the way that things that should normally cheer me up don't. I am scattered. Spacey. Quiet. Slow. Blank. And it frightens me.

I wish I didn't feel like an only child. You told me that you didn't have time for unhappy people, that I had to be happy with myself before I could be happy with people. How sad that you don't realize that I need my sister back in my life to be happy. How sad that you can kick family to the curb when they need you most. How unbearably sad that I realize now how cold you have become.

In these two weeks of total darkness, my imagination has run wild. I thought up a scenario one time where that son of a bitch who changed you happened to stroll up to my register while I was working. Sometimes I'd imagine his mom with him, sometimes it would just be him. He'd be clueless, and I'd be shaking with fury. I'd say what I was supposed to say to each customer: "Hello, how are you today?" but through gritted teeth. He'd say "fine", and I'd say, "Well, that's fucking unfortunate." He'd stare at me and then I'd let it all out. I'd scream at him, I'd tell him that because of him, I no longer have a sister in my life. That because of him, my baby sister is cold and hateful. I'd scream that it's all his fault, it's all his fucking fault. Sometimes I'd imagine him guilty, sometimes I would imagine him quiet. Then I'd hand him his bag and say, "Have a fucking horrible day."

Happiness. It's not only our goal but our duty to find the things that make us happy. For some it comes easy, and for others it doesn't. It's all trial and error until we find it. That's what I've been doing and I feel that the process is hurting someone close to me.

I don't have a clue as to what I'm doing.

Nothing Will Ever Change

It's been a while since I've been this...disconnected. It's not like I time these things or expect them to happen. If anything I try to avoid it completely. But I feel too much, care too much to suppress my total and utter sadness. It's rather frustrating, but part of who I am. I find myself sobbing by myself sometimes, about what I couldn't say. Perhaps I sob for my own self pity, because I'm just that ridiculous. No, I don't think so. I sob because I'm lonely in a crowd of people. I sob because I can't even trust those closest to me to understand me and keep me from falling deeper and deeper into a shithole. I sob because I can talk all day about the sadness I feel and none of it subsides. I sob because I feel like the people closest to me don't take my mental pain seriously enough. I sob because I have people who tell me they care about me but do nothing to show for it. And maybe I'm just a big whiner, who knows. But this is the truth that no one else cares to know.