My words are gone. I used to have so many. They used to flow like a forest stream, smooth and beautiful over the pebbles and stones of the bed beneath. The sound calming and gentle on one's soul, and so therapeutic a way to express myself. Figuring out a puzzle, piecing it together with the bits and scraps of thoughts in my head, sorting through the fragments, attempting to make sense of it all and setting it to music. Making it a work of art, making it beautiful in its tragic disaster of shattered repair.
So where have they disappeared to? Did the spring run dry? Have I sabotaged it myself? Have I broken it so far beyond repair this time that no matter how much I want to change, how far down I dig for a drop of water again, how strong I try to be, the damage is irreparable? Have I fallen for the last time? Is it all lost to me forever? Am I to exist in this empty state of mental darkness for the remainder of these already-empty days I trudge through?
Is there still hope for the hopeless? Is there a light somewhere in this starless night? Is there something I should keep going for? Is there a reason I cannot seem to succeed? Is there a reason I always fall?
I need support. I need a hand to pull me up this time; a reason and the strength I cannot muster on my own this time around.
Does my road lead anywhere at all besides into ditches and in circles?
If I don't have my words on this solitary journey, then how will I make it through? With nothing to express myself, am I not nothing as well? As meaningless as the feelings that no one else feels or understands but me. That others cast off as irrelevant and the overreactions of an pathetic and broken girl - an emo loser. A drama queen. None of it is real. None of it has credence. A reflection on my own poor existence.
But I need my words, just like I need my music. I need my outlets. This misfit, this outcast, this freak, she needs to understand and feel and be okay with it. Words help me to see the whole picture and to appreciate the journey.
I am my own undoing, my own worst enemy. But I put pen to paper and I can fight my demons with each poignant sentence. Without my defenses, I am truly nothing, I am empty and pointless. I am an ignorant soul, going to waste with every moment that passes. Feeling there's nothing inside, and dropping further when there's nothing to show to the world.
So where have they disappeared to? Did the spring run dry? Have I sabotaged it myself? Have I broken it so far beyond repair this time that no matter how much I want to change, how far down I dig for a drop of water again, how strong I try to be, the damage is irreparable? Have I fallen for the last time? Is it all lost to me forever? Am I to exist in this empty state of mental darkness for the remainder of these already-empty days I trudge through?
Is there still hope for the hopeless? Is there a light somewhere in this starless night? Is there something I should keep going for? Is there a reason I cannot seem to succeed? Is there a reason I always fall?
I need support. I need a hand to pull me up this time; a reason and the strength I cannot muster on my own this time around.
Does my road lead anywhere at all besides into ditches and in circles?
If I don't have my words on this solitary journey, then how will I make it through? With nothing to express myself, am I not nothing as well? As meaningless as the feelings that no one else feels or understands but me. That others cast off as irrelevant and the overreactions of an pathetic and broken girl - an emo loser. A drama queen. None of it is real. None of it has credence. A reflection on my own poor existence.
But I need my words, just like I need my music. I need my outlets. This misfit, this outcast, this freak, she needs to understand and feel and be okay with it. Words help me to see the whole picture and to appreciate the journey.
I am my own undoing, my own worst enemy. But I put pen to paper and I can fight my demons with each poignant sentence. Without my defenses, I am truly nothing, I am empty and pointless. I am an ignorant soul, going to waste with every moment that passes. Feeling there's nothing inside, and dropping further when there's nothing to show to the world.
