Earlier this week I wanted life to stop, to slow down so I could catch my breath and wipe away my tears. But the motion continued cruelly forth, driving me over the edge. I would like to say I emerged from the wreakage unscathed but unfortunately I suffered at the hands of fate.
Today I sliced deep into the vein of my emotions, poured out the staining ink, splattered the evidence across the white plaster of my canvas. I took the water and a brush and created beauty of my pain. If only all pain could be handled in this way.
Tonight my body aches from long hours of work, my soul aches for the warm touch of love, my mind aches from mulling over horrid memories, my eyes hurt from staring at distractions that fall short of comforting me. Sometimes I can't see a path through the tangle that is my thoughts. But step by step I'll make it through. I will push through. There is no other option. To give up now is to admit that everyone was right. To admit that I was never worth it. I won't admit that. Because to admit that is to admit that the love everyone has poured into me, the hopes and dreams of all those I love, are but nothing. Were for nothing. And I know that is not true.
So for now I will curl up with my pillows and blankets, my poor excuse to comfort the loneliness I feel inside, and drown my sorrows in the dreams of the ill-rested.