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| I just wanted to say that you cut me, and it still hurts.
Its been years, its been months, its been days, its been hours...
But the pain you've passed to me it festers and it sours.
I can't be happy knowing the wound still persists,
And the fact of the matter is I don't want to resist.
I keep itching at the scab and peeling it back,
There is no more blood to bleed and my skin is turning black.
Necrosis settles in and my skin is dying now,
This misery of mine it is all I can allow.
My only hope now is I find something golden beneath what I see.
That some brighter future lies ahead beneath this scarred infected life before me now.
God grant me justice, Rorate Carli Desuper Et Nubes Pluamt Justum... | | |
| I find the phrase 'cold turkey' and interesting choice of metaphor for one's lack of relapse. I think it is because it does not inspire any joyous or uplifting feelings that such an action should provoke. I want to be hugged and not have to hug back... | | |
| Its always the heart. You are never hurt by something other than something matters. It always works that way. And in that way, you can know what matters the most to you. | | |
| I think it is finally about time I do a legit blog entry. All this nonsense and droning on and off in cryptic poetry is beginning to wear thin. That and I have been accused of depression, even in the heights of my happiness. Besides all those concerned albeit false ponderings, I am sick. Yeah, the typically 'Awhs' and 'I am so sorry' have already been handled and I am fairly used to getting sick around this time of the year, every year. Seriously if it wasn't for me actually getting extremely healthy this past few months, I doubt it would have taken this long for it to get to me. But being sick has kind of hit me in an awkward way. Like when someone punches your ear. It doesn't make sense why, but it still hurts.
The basic gist is that I am no superman by far. I am no Edward Cullen. I doubt I am even as beastcat as my teammates would have me think. I am certainly no genius according to the school system anymore. If anything I have watched myself transition from typical well-meaning-educational-system-fodder to the more rare annoyance that is the underachieving-try-to-do-everything-can't-properly-prioritize-extremely-gifted-yet-fails-so-hard-and-is-practically-always-confused-individual with a side serving of insomnia and damned persistence. Three and a half months of emotional rollercoasters, academic slip ups, track and field beastliness, constant questioning of self and other and future, and insomnia coming in with 2-3 hours of sleep on a good night has taken its toll on me. And yet for all of this, I have not thought better in probably all my years. I really need a chance to run away and just write for a while. I can type extremely well with my eyes closed so perhaps I should just do that eventually. I am not even looking at the keyboard or the screen for the majority of this blog post or anything I do online now really... I just find myself apathetic. To quote a lovable hobbit, "I need a very long vacation." Thank God for Christmas break. Unfortunately between now and that heaven is a series of finals for my college courses. Which I doubt I am truly prepared for.
Anyways, basically my life has been extremely, undefinable. Good and bad in every way but I can't justifying fixing the bad because the good is so... perfect. And all day long I have worn an Santa hat. I love it. Comfy, warm, and almost exemplifies how sick I feel. To the point of blind obsession with this one object as though I am a small child again. Oh those playground days... I barely knew you. | | |
| 1) Our love is ____ever.
a) For
b) N
c) What
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