words

Blank.

Everything is vanishing faster than it appears.  Sand through the hourglass. I am chasing through the words finding myself falling to catch them. If only this were easy, if only this wasn’t so hard. It’s all just a game that my mind can’t quit playing. Searching through every never ending crevice and coming up empty handed. Finding the words to supplement everything you want to say and coming up blank.

Blank.

Racking my brain waiting for a sign. Looking to the clouded skies to find some piece of mind. Coming up empty as the fog clears through the sky. My mind goes a mile a minute but I can’t slow it down to grab the words to say what I need to say. I can’t formulate the magic to bring everything to the light. I come up empty. How long will this last, I’ll never know. A day, a week, a month of this empty space running through my brain. I’ve got nothing. Its the vacant silence that scares me the most. The moment the night hits my eyes and the whole world disappears. Words have a way of haunting you but they have a funny way of disappearing when you need them the most. You never know how much you need something until it’s gone. You never know how much words can mean to you, until you can’t reach them. Thats all you do, reach for something and obtain nothing.

I can’t stop it. I can’t keep fueling the fire. I given in to the notion that the words will find me when I stop looking for them. They’ll appear once I stop forcing them. Masterpieces aren’t built on illusions, but the will and the need to show to the world what we need to say. I just wish I could put together everything I need to say. Show to the world every single emotion I want to say out loud. But I can’t, all I do is come out empty.

Everything.

Blank.

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Would it make you feel better to watch me while I bleed?

Words have a way of suffocating you when you’re trying to breathe. Long after they have been said. They’re the ghosts that come back to haunt you, long after the guilty parties have left. You cling on to them, allow them to marinate inside of you and never let them go. You find yourself believing these things because that’s what you’ve taught yourself to believe. Bruises heal, cuts scar, but words have this long lasting effect that echo through you on the darkest of days.

Everyone says to forget them. Erase them from your mind. That part of your life is over and time to focus on the now. Every once in a while when things happen to hurt more than normal you go back to those words. Those words that make your heart break. Those words that remind you of bleeding and hurting, all over again. You give these words all the power to infest your insides with hatred and you can’t help but allow it to. No matter what you tell yourself its always in the back of your mind, “You’re not good enough, and you never will be”. You are your worst critic and no matter what you tell yourself during the day, it’s the nights that haunt you more than anything. It’s the nights that you are honest with yourself and you can’t help but pick yourself apart. You’re only doing what others have done before you. Nit pick at everything you do and making themselves superior from how you’re feeling. It doesn’t make them ugly, because you know how ugly of a person you already are. Its the same fight you have over and over with yourself. This devil and god continuing to rage inside of you and you can’t help but succumb to the darkness. You fight this battle every night and you tell yourself one day it will be over, one day it will all disappear.

I wish it was easy to forget. That believing people was easy as snapping your fingers. It’s not. While I sit here I just want to pick at the broken scabs and watch myself bleed. It’s what everyone else wants. They want this failure, this shell of a person that radiates black and blue. They want a vessel to point fingers at. How easy it would be to watch the blood drain from my veins just to make you feel better. How easy it was to say the words and never caring of the actions that came after it. It takes more than an empty apology to make things better. I have a jar of empty apologizes and my arms sore from every cut you gave me. I can’t breathe anymore. I can’t sleep, I can’t think, and I can’t help but replay every negative aspect of life people have thrown against me. You make me a victim but I can’t help but always feel like the villain. I am the bad guy, I am the one that’s always in the wrong. But I’m still the one bleeding for your amusement.

We bleed, we give up, then we rise again. It’s not easy being who everyone wants me to be. It’s not easy pretending that everything is fine. I am not fine, I am not even close to being okay. Some days are harder and some days just disappear.  I would have bled myself dry if that would make everyone happy. But I can’t. Instead I watch the cuts turn to scabs and the scab heal into scars. I can’t forget what has happened because the scar is there to remind me. To remind me of the bleeding, the hurt, and the pain of words that I can’t seem to rid from my mind. One day the ghost of the words will no longer haunt me. What a joyful feeling that would be. Until then I sit with my scars and continue to heal.

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7/2/2009

Run away as fast as you can.

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Music has always been a huge factor in my life. For as long as I can remember. It’s the melody in the arrangements. The words that make up the lyrics in the song. Sometimes it’s the haunting storytelling that finds a way to tug at your heart strings. There’s always that one song. That one song that hits you in the gut and straight into your soul. The more you think you can hide from it, the more it keeps reappearing. That’s how I always felt about “Runaway”. It was always that song I tried to escape from. Its the lyrics that flow freely and become so vulnerable. The tiny glimpse of a soul that infiltrates your reality.

It starts within the first few seconds. The haunting echoing sounds of the keys. A backdrop of emptiness, that pierces through your chest. The more they repeat themselves the more it cuts you inside. One after the after. The same keys, then the drums crash and hit. It becomes this empty chaos. Just when the words start to come into play, you take it all back one last time.

And, I always find somethin’ wrong

The best way to explain situations is to formulate the words and say them yourself. I am not the best person. Some days I feel that I’m the villain in the film of life. I can’t shake that feeling. That desire to find the bad in everything. Just when I think I have it figured out, I can’t help but trash the whole system. I have that tendency to seek comfort in the demons of my life. Reaping the benefits of sorrow and blaming everyone in the process. I can’t help myself. Right when you think everything is okay, you find a way to bring everything down. I am so used to pretending I’m okay and in reality I’m not. Instead of letting wounds heal, I just pour more salt on the healing process. Always finding something wrong.

I’m so gifted at findin’ what I don’t like the most
When your spirit has been brought down so many times, how do you recover from that? How do you get the courage to seek good in bad situations? You build these walls that don’t allow anything to get through. You’re afraid of the emotion, you’re afraid of the consequences, you’re afraid of someone breaking down the walls. I let bad people into my life that have broken my spirit countless times. When you allow people to break you, you begin to break down the good people in your life. The people undeserving of your broken spirit. I can’t help but think of the monster I’ve become toward people. Saying things out of fear of my own demons. The same things that have haunted my life that come out through pure emotional withdraw. I think of all the people that put up with my bullshit and I continue to think of all the times I’ve let them down. Spilling out apologizes comes naturally to me, my only exception is that I actually mean it. Every time I say I will be better, I believe it. Every time I say “I’m sorry”, I believe it. I just don’t know anymore.
Words have a way of haunting you. Sometimes all you want to do is run away from them. Run away from all your problems, from all your emotional bullshit, everything. The revolving door of broken people will always be there. As much as I want to hide from my past, I can’t.  All I can ask is to take my apology and accept my forgiveness. I mean it this time. I mean it more than the first time. I mean it more than the last time. I just couldn’t help myself.
I’m sorry.
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