Gaping hole
I miss him.
Codeine 20ml a day to keep the pain at bay and hurt away. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t bring myself to be happy or to stop crying and I can’t breathe.
I have holes in me. I have nothing inside left. Why can’t I just be strong? Why can’t I just ignore the pain?
I am trying so hard to scrape by. Just normal life. I just want to hole myself up. Read books after books. Hide myself and slowly wither into the wall. I want to write self loathing and pitying poems. Sing sappy hopeless love songs and recite prose to myself. I want to write passages of grief. Para after para. I want to disappear into an uninteresting mass of dirt and be forgotten with no hope. I want to eat nothing, drink nothing. I want to sleep forever. I want to just die like my insides are dying. I want to just hug myself and fling myself into an empty abyss and forget my life. Abandonment and being let down always I can no longer take.
Who cares if anyone thinks I’m melodramatic? I don’t care what they think anymore. If I flip the coin around, these are people who do not feel despair at the depth I do. Nor do they experience the sheer excesses that I do. They can say what they want about me. Why do I have to bother when I no longer feel like it matters? When everything feels bleak. I am melodramatic.
I want to wallow in self pity and hate for myself and just lose every inch of hope. I want to stop crying, stop feeling, stop living.
Broken Strings – James Morrison Ft Nelly Furtado
Let me hold you for the last time
It’s the last chance to feel again
But you broke me, now I can’t feel anything
When I love you and so untrue
I can’t even convince myself
When I’m speaking it’s the voice of someone else
Oh, it tears me up
I tried to hold on but it hurts too much
I tried to forgive but it’s not enough
To make it all okay
You can’t play our broken strings
You can’t feel anything
That your heart don’t want to feel
I can’t tell you something that ain’t real
Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before?
Oh, what are we doing?
We are turning into dust
Playing house in the ruins of us
Running back through the fire
When there’s nothing left to say
It’s like chasing the very last train
When it’s too late, too late
Oh, it tears me up
I tried to hold on but it hurts too much
I tried to forgive but it’s not enough
To make it all okay
You can’t play our broken strings
You can’t feel anything
That your heart don’t want to feel
I can’t tell you something that ain’t real
Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse
How can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before?
But we’re running through the fire
When there’s nothing left to say
It’s like chasing the very last train
When we both know it’s too late, too late
You can’t play our broken strings
You can’t feel anything
That your heart don’t want to feel
I can’t tell you something that ain’t real
Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse
So how can I give anymore
When I love you a little less than before?
Oh, you know that I love you a little less than before
Let me hold you for the last time
It’s the last chance to feel again
Decode
I will say this for the last time for myself to hear.
I am alone now not because of who is willing to listen or be there. I am alone because this is a state of helplessness. This is a feeling of being trapped and a screaming need to be free. To be a blank. To be nothing. To just want to stop knowing, stop feeling, stop.
Press pause and replay when I’m ready. That, I am alone.
The support I need when I feel this way is not what most can give and I accept that. Even though it hurts. What is hurt anyway.
Reprieve.
Nothing I need, you can give. It’s not about you, it’s me. Every single cliche in the book I will regurgitate. Friends, lovers, foes, family, whomever. Every single cliche, every single thing that makes me seem a dramatic.
Like I say before, good times, bad times. These are the bad times and I do not blame anything anyone that I am alone.
This state of mind from which I cannot get my reprieve.
Stop.
Maybe.
Need be.
How can it be?
Oh dear… When can I be a blank? With no knife to my throat, no needle to my vein, no death, no solace, no relief, no reprieve.
I don’t know anymore. For real. I’m the most lost anyone can be.
The cries echo off the walls. No concern warms the heart. No love is enough. The truth of the matter is I now know. I know why. And now that I know, I cannot undo.
Amor et melle et felle est fecundissmismus. Love is indeed rich in both honey and venom.
I kill myself.
