I got my three days off work. I thought this is going to be a great time to just cry my eyes out, scream and roll around in tears on the floor. No, I could only manage about 10 minutes of crying and that wasn’t enough for me to get all of it out. How am I supposed to mourn a relationship when I can’t even shed a few tears?
The drugs I’m taking are so strong that they prevent me from even having a good cry when I need it, when the circumstances are such…Two-year relationship ended and I can’t even cry…What is the meaning of this?
So, I’m just waddling around the house hazy, frazzled and disoriented, constantly sucking on my e-cig for some type of comfort.
My phone is now always silent, which perpetuates the haunting feeling of loneliness. I can’t believe I’m alone again, is this feeling enough for me to break and go back to her? I feel like nobody even cares enough, all people can say is to just get over it, don’t cry about it, etc. How are you not supposed to cry about someone you shared two years of your life with? Yes, there were a lot of bad times but there were also good times.
The thought about starting all over again is daunting. Meeting new people some time again, trying to get to know them, all that shebang. I really don’t feel like it anymore, I feel like it’s easier to be alone nowadays, there are less and less adequate people to meet, everything is so different now than it was before. She was the only one that could deal with my mental breakdowns and just me in general, I don’t think I will be able to find someone else like that.
If I can’t be with that person, I’m not going to try and be with anyone else. I live alone and I die alone.
Like a drop of wine on my lips,
Sour, yet intoxicating at the same time.
There is no God for me to go to,
So I sit still by the pain and hope to survive.
I die in pain, I die alone,
I have come from nowhere, and nowhere I go…
My orphaned spirit is left on the rocks,
If there is no one by my side, then let it be so…
I can’t stand to be alone,
I need cackling in the other rooms.
Someone scurrying around for something,
to feel a whiff of someone’s perfume…
Familiar or unfamiliar soul, it doesn’t matter,
to be alone or not,
I choose the latter.
I can’t stand an empty home,
Big one or small,
I want to be in the midst of playful banter,
or hear the music of someone’s chatter…
Argue or not, it’s not that important,
an exhange of battling opinions is
better than a soul orhpaned.
When all of us gather in our tiny kitchen,
it is like all of us share the same religion,
put our differences aside, it is not that important,
being together is better than being a soul that is orphaned.
This room is my prison.
A dark cell governed by darkness I sit in.
This bed is my home,
and these walls – the only thing that listen,
how the sound changes from silence to shrieks in a second,
all the pain they’ve reckoned and all the punches they’ve taken.
They breathe in unison with my fears at night,
but they keep silent, all four polite.
Pillows – the tear catchers,
catch every drop from my eye,
These things are all I have – all that keeps me alive.
Never alone in this room that I own,
This place and these walls are all that I’ve known.
Sometimes you get so tense and emotionally unstable that familiar scenes start to look foreign. The people that once brought you joy now seem unbearable, you’re completely detached from them. It seems that you’re living in your own little miserable bubble and others live in a completely different world.
You’ve become a hermit. Even a trip to the store makes you want to punch every single oblivious shopper in there. Feels like 1000 needles are piercing your skin every second of the day.
You try and laugh and be normal, you take your medication, your vitamins, you make jokes but you know that inside you’re rotting away and one day you just snap and you can’t do it anymore. You scream, you cry and do dumb things like harm yourself. You’re empty but you feel everything.
It eats you on the inside. Nothing you do is ever enough to make you feel better.
Summer was never this gloomy
Shadows follow me around,
I’m on the path to find peace,
But I’m pushed off of that ground.
I was supposed to drown in lavish nature,
In murky waters of lakes and ponds,
Bask in the yellow, all-seeing eye,
But instead, to my haven, I abscond.
Closer to my shrines of Buddha, Jesus, Shiva,
To my false sense of belonging,
Gods I’ve never believed in.
This summer and all summers before,
As well as all of mankind,
And this life that’s a chore,
I’m alive to the core,
But bloodless inside.
A clutch, a clench, a grip,
to a zip.
A scarce apprehension of what it was made of,
I knew it was about to be a lonely trip.
A train ride full of frowns of other guests,
they are on it for the same trip,
they clutch, they clench, they grip,
to a zip.
Eyes empty and a stiff upper lip,
keep all to yourself, don’t let a sound slip,
soon we will all be there, all going the same way,
see the children and the others look down as they pray.
It’s only getting faster, it’s picking up speed,
The murmurs getting louder as they look up to God,
We’re all in it too deep.
A crash and it’s over, no one made it alive,
we were all in it, but it was a short, lonely ride.
Every morning is greeted with hollow dents
in the walls of my room and my marrow.
The emptiness with which the day is attended is inexcusable,
yet let it be better tomorrow.
It will arrive just like the days that came before
and the furniture will still stand unmoved,
the pillow next to me will still remain an excess
and I will still be trapped in solitude.
Immobile, at moments the spirit dances away into space
and I watch it go,
It joins all the other souls lost and they combine in a promenade.
They do it with grace…
And I remain paralyzed in the moment with anxiety,
And the silence vindicates and spreads through the sphere,