December 26 2009
When the hurt hurts so bad that I just wanna scream it out but screaming is impossible at the moment (because I can’t make so much noise and someone will surely hit me if I did), I write. I let my thoughts flow from my mind down to my arms into the hand that holds a pen in front of a paper or into my hands that are resting on the keyboard.
My thoughts are actually on a mess. My thinking is fuzzy, alright. Before I come up with something that isn’t all too weird, vague, circular, stupid or fuzzier, I had to sweep everything in my mind first and try to organize them in a way that can be understood by others other than myself (duh). However, others don’t have to understand me anyway.
Writing has always been my refuge. And I don’t wanna bleed anymore. My blood is precious to be wasted. I know there are people out there who die because of blood’s unavailability right when it’s needed the most. So I don’t slash anymore. I realized it was… Just not for me. And I am not so proud of the fact that I used to. But I don’t regret it either. I just don’t wanna do it again.
So what do I write about? Well, I write down everything inside my head just to empty my mind. ‘Cause my head throbs so much if I didn’t. My heart feels like bursting if I try to keep it all inside. My insides won’t be at peace so sleeping will be impossible. I’ve always had trouble sleeping anyway. I dunno if there’ll ever come a time that I’d fall asleep as soon as I lie down. It has been a long time since I slept without too much baggage in my consciousness.
It’s just so hard. This is all so hard. I feel unbearably heavy. When will I be able to experience that unbearable lightness for a change? How.