There Should Be Punishment To Those That Robbed Me Of My Youth. I Cannot Shake The Feeling That I Deserved

Wish I was a boy

We suffer not from the events in our lives but from our judgment about them.

Epictetus

Sea cave

00:54

14 oct

It’s all on me

The Air that cloaks me is so still. I’m out past midnight and im scared. In a run down government funded hospital with floors that remind me of myself- so deeply dented and dirty that there exists nothing to cleanse it.

The low hum that the vending machine sings is accompanied with random outburst of the intercom calling for a doctor. This is a place of pain, a medium in which sickness and dread gather.

She tired to take her life. So soon, is all that I thought. Although she is physically alright, there is this distant pain that stings me- what if I had not answered the phone.

I hate to say it but she has proven them right, she is weak. But I only hate myself for thinking such and dread the fact that such thought occurred about my beloved.

I thought I would be able to catch up on sleep, but here I am seated on a steel cold bench waiting for the patient and her companion to come out. I don’t even know what they are doing to her. But I do hope she is not in pain.

Am I selfish for wanting her to stay? Yes…

But then again I think if she truly wanted to leave she would have by now. Her calling me gathered the fact that she still has hope, without hope she would be past that point.

But oh man, am I tired. Since she has not lived up to the expectations now I must. This is not words that have been directly communicated but rather suggested and installed throughout my youth.

I don’t feel much, I usually don’t when traumatic events happen, and it truly scares me. Why is that I am unable to process my emotions on that moment. It is only much later that they flood my mind and slash my skin.

It starts as a harmless poke to my shoulder. Never a serious matter for when I turn to question you, you respond with a bright smile and remind me that it is all friendly.

Your fingerprint begins to stain my shoulders and I turn to inquire your motivations. Quickly I am shut it down cause it’s nothing serious, just a nudge.

Times pass and the skin that you torment is bruising, the pain pulsates although out my body.

Your hand is tainted crimson with my ooze but still you address me with a smile, after all it’s just a nudge.

You burry your way through my skin and uncover the most fragile parts of my being. The foundation that I am built on is disrupted by your omnipotent presence that chips away at me.

I garner up the courage to question your antics as my bones begin to splinter.

But there is no body to restore me, I am spoilt beyond recovery.

It starts as a harmless poke to my shoulder. Never a serious matter for when I turn to question you, you respond with a bright smile and remind me that it is all friendly.

Your fingerprint begins to stain my shoulders and I turn to inquire your motivations. Quickly I am shut it down cause it’s nothing serious, just a nudge.

Times pass and the skin that you torment is bruising, the pain pulsates although out my body.

Your hand is tainted crimson with my ooze but still you address me with a smile, after all it’s just a nudge.

You burry your way through my skin and uncover the most fragile parts of my being. The foundation that I am built on is disrupted by your omnipotent presence that chips away at me.

I garner up the courage to question your antics as my bones begin to splinter.

But there is no body to restore me, I am spoilt beyond recovery.

I feel, so tired.

Ive always thought that j was content with my socail circle. Ive a lot of acquaintances and everyone knows my name. Adults consider me charming and im more than often invited out.

Still i have no one.

Say prehaps a book that is covered in emerald green flowers lays ahead of you. Its pages bent and the spine of it ceased. This book has been pages through a few times but its beauty is retained. You would look at this book and understand that it is not a quick read merely by its thickness. Tis only when you open the book would you realise that its writting is miniature, almost requiring a magnifying glass.

Although this novel is garenteed to interest and change your life, the minor inconveniences make you flee. Leaving the book to be engulfed by ratchet vines that suffocate it.

To make the outside of the book would be the solution to making this novel more captivating. This belief in itself opposes the notion that media presents.

I am not good enough… for i can be better, as toxic as it is, it seems to be a solution nonetheless

“I love that moment when I look back at a challenge in my life and realize I’m now at peace with it!”

— Unknown

Law Takes Precedence Over Might. 1873. School of Henri Lehmann German/French 1814-1882. oil/canvas.   http://hadrian6.tumblr.com