You Contradict My Darkness

There was an insistent innocence that existed in each moment that night. It was past midnight and the very reality of the experience was forbidden, but all that was forgotten the instant I stepped into your presence. For those solitary hours that stand alone in time, I was free of the senselessness of the world and I saw through the eyes of a child. The simplest form of hope dimmed onto my darkness as I observed the sunset sway on the rooftops of skyscrapers in the far distance and decipher the city with a radiant yet natural beauty: light. The light blinded me into a blissful oblivion and added as sense of relief and relaxation I had lost long ago to the terrors of this world. Finally, someone had revived my soul from the dark corpse it had settled in. The refreshing slap of the stutter of my heart awakened me into the essence of your purity as I saw you shiver from nerves. We sat on the cold wooden bench, where our bodies remained stiff from the fear of the smallest movement interrupting the peacefulness of the view. The river laid before us, blanketing the unknown. The soothing waves brushed back and forth against the rocks, only meters before us, pacifying my insecurities and encouraging my hopes for the night. I found extensive beauty in my surroundings, but it was nothing compared to you. I felt such peace as you held me lightly and the sun continued to rise across the scattered city. The ability to deliver serenity to a stranger like me is true beauty, true essence. And somewhere along the moments of easing walks along the river, where my feet danced from the tingly circulating blood, we found a deserted spot that called our names. We ignored the endless bacteria and dirt and ants beneath us as we stretched ourselves on the solid concrete. The waves clashed from under us, and I felt united. The stars, still risen in the sky directly above us, formed a submissive form of light that blended into the interiors of my soul. They shined with vividness that my eyes found difficulty in drifting from their sight. I turned to you as we discussed the meaning found in the stars above us. And then I saw it: you’re eyes had subtle light, though as intensive as the eyes of the sky, not as demanding. And then I knew: as long as I spent my life with you, I would have a subtle light shining on my darkness; a delicate meaning with the strength of the stars enlightening my existence.

Chaos or picket fence?

I want the white picket fence and the beautiful sun shining on my freshly cut green lawn. I want the children, brown haired and blue eyed, giggling on the swing set as they reach new worlds with their imagination. I want the perfect marriage: husband coming home with flowers and wearing a glowing smile as I embrace him passionately every day. I want the white picket fence to surround my perfect world. But do I really? Part of me craves insanity accompanied by multicultural chaos, swaying the bright green leaves into the violent wind and pulling the perfectly aligned grass out of its roots. Part of me is exhilarated by the thrill of the vicious storm that lies in my heart and becomes reality. The frenzied flashbacks of fleeting pain are paralleled by the outrageous lightning bolts of blistering fire. I love the confusing mixture of emotions erupting through the blood pumping out of my heart as I am both horrified and amazed by the systematic storm underlying in my heart and sky. Storms are the most powerful and pacifying when our internal pain, sharp and throbbing, is being expelled in the roaring screams and shrieks of the clouds. It is easier to relate to chaos when it flows directly out of your subconscious soul and into the world.

She lay there.

She lay there, still as a portrait. There was a simplicity to her beauty. Her eyes glistened with innocence and her smile reminded me of Christmas morning. Or the first signs of love. or the overwhelming smell of freshly fallen snow. Her skin was soft, gentle as the warmth of a mother. Something about her mesmerized me. Perhaps it was her simplicity or her innocence. or Perhaps something deeper. Perhaps it was her soul glowing through the outskirts of her body, shining through the purest pours of her skin. And perhaps, it was something deeper..

Prey vs Predator

My thoughts become paralyzed at the first sign of an outburst of anger. His defiant voice strikes me into weakness. The symptoms are obvious, but not often expected: anxiousness, tensed facial expression and demeaning comments. These debasing eruptions have been so common and influential to my state of happiness, or rather, lack of happiness, that the sound of his angered tone destructs my strength even when the anger is not directed toward me. Similar to how a child who has eaten a high quantity of vanilla ice cream may throw up and forever become nauseated by the smell of vanilla, I am forever incarcerated by the demons that arise from the slightest reminder of his voice. At that breaking moment in which time stops and I realize the events that are about to take place, I shelter my breaking heart in my soft, sensitive self-esteem. I prepare myself for what I can truly never be prepared for: the dissection of my personality, the deterioration of my soul. As it begins, I detach myself from the voice that controls every aspect of my utter being. I detach myself from the shattering soul that I literally feel crumpling inside the tense confines of my stomach muscles. And eventually, it ends. At some point, it must end. And the hardest part of the entire encounter is undergone: I must pretend to forgive him. I must try to forgive him. But it never really ends. It never completely goes away; it always comes back. It’s an endless cycle of preying on the innocence of others, depression, and being asked for forgiveness, being forgiven, and pouncing on them at the next opportunity you get. Forgiveness cannot be continuously granted, so be careful when you’re taking chances..

One day, I will not be your prey.

bunch of old stuff.

1) I need to regain my faith. Somehow, I must regain my faith. I have lost myself in the open fields of temptation and sin. It feels as though I am entangled in the vines of desire and drug like escapes, as my mind is wrapped around euphoric fantasies. The thorns of fear continue to pinch me just enough to have awareness remain a constant pain in my mind. I’m caught up in the defiance of the Lord and this destroys my every hope to become a good person with God’s guidance.
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2)I want to die just to get out of this misery; this unexplained misery that’s constantly clouding my emotions; this constant end of all feelings. And occasionally a bubble of pain, or intellectual darkness travel to my surface, but it just makes me wonder..shouldn’t I be glad to be capable of numbing my emotions although I cannot turn it on and off as I wish? Shouldn’t I be glad to be able to escape pain? And at the same time I feel it so strongly, rooting from somewhere so deep inside of me that it corrupts my entire system. I wonder why it kills me to feel, but kills me more to be numb. I wonder why I have been chosen to live with all others must live with, but also have permanent disruptions of happiness and continuous chaotic turmoil of emotions within me. I wonder how I’m supposed to live through all this. The moment a bit of happiness arrives, it vanishes before I experience and enjoy its perspective to the fullest. How am I expected to live? How am I expected to make it through? To be honest, at times I don’t think I was meant to.. I don’t think I was meant to be capable of handling all this, and at times I feel it will get better. That I will be fixed, that someone will save me, or I’ll save myself. But through my years I’ve come to realize, I cannot fix permanent prints inside of me; someone else will not save me for longer than a moment; that the same person who saved me will put me in further danger; and that I am too weak and emotionally disturbed to save myself. But still, shadows of hope remain. But slowly they are leaking out of this ocean, and soon I will be forced to take matters into my own hands, which aren’t reliable ones.
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3)I don’t even get lost in the world..just in something as simple as myself. If I did not tell you of my depression, if I did not show you..how would you know? You wouldn’t. My friends haven’t noticed for months. I don’t want to bring you down with me, but I don’t want to go down alone. That’s how damn selfish I am. I’d rather bring you down with me and torture myself at the bottom for you to see than to go down alone. I know I’m mentally sick with my constant unstable emotions. I wonder sometimes if I make myself sick. You’ve asked me “If you could, you’d get better right? If I found a way, you’d try your best to get better right?” And I answer yes, of course, Of course. But the truth is, I’ve lived so long with this sickness I do not even remember how to live without it. I don’t know how to live without it. Who would I be without this disease, it’s as much a part of me as my soul. Being subtly yet dramatically depressed is a part of my personality now. But this part of me is worthless if I do not let someone know. If I do not express my sorrow, my anguish to someone who loves me it is even more dreadful inside of me, longing to be let out. It’s more than the need of attention, It’s my constant need and crave for more love. but how much love is enough? How much do I need to please me? Am I able to be satisfied for more than a few moments, that pass all too quickly? I feel my soul crumpled inside of me.. I imagine my body curled up in a ball, against a hard, cold wall. I picture my thoughts flowing hectically through my brain as they send shimmers down my veins. I am often too caught up in myself..
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4)Mind’s were meant to scatter; to be shared and passed around. It’s sort of like that game telephone, pass along your thoughts and see what you end up with. Everyone picks up something else. I feel as though society started off generations ago with a positive group of thoughts, and they all morphed over time into the disgusting thoughts of today’s society. It only took a few dirt bags to reword this world’s thoughts into the moralless pit that the majority have fallen into. What worries me further is that people truly have become brainwashed by the power of these overwhelming thoughts; these thoughts that lead the soul into temptations and desires that are self mutilating and destructive toward others as well. No, I don’t believe the whole world should follow one train of thought. I don’t believe everyone has to agree. But I do believe that everyone should try to follow good morals, to do what is right rather than what is selfish, to do what they can to improve themselves and the world around them. Morality is only contained by few; Those few will go far in this world full of deceit. Sometimes, I truly wonder if humanity will be able to recover from such an increasing morality crisis. But then, I gather my faith. I have to have faith in humanity’s ability to improve. For as all know, without hope, there is no possibility left..
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5)
I forget what is real and what is not. Not that it matters. Reality has long only been a fabrication of my own mind. Promises were meant to be broken, I suppose, just like hearts. The only difference is, hearts mend. Promises just fade away, lingering into empty phrases. But I still believe every one of them. How foolish can I be, how naïve have I become? It seems as though no matter how many times I learn this lesson “the hard way”, I will never fully believe that people—mainly those I associate with—could be so callous and ungenuine. I do not lack trust, for I always trust whole heartedly. But, there is a constant battle in my body that is continuously ignored. It’s my heart against my mind, and my mind against the world. My heart, fragile and naïve (and I do not use naïve in the sense of inexperienced, for it has long endured heartbreaks, my naiveness has survived plenty of cold winters filled with pained precipitation) utterly believes that no one can truly inflict me intentional harm. My heart believes that everyone deserves to be trusted, for everyone makes mistakes. But my mind believes its own wisdom and troubles me with flashbacks of past treachery and warnings of wandering deceit. But I long for closeness; I long for love. The only way to receive love is to love unconditionally. And so, I always do. Once I love someone, I love unconditionally, regardless of my past or theirs. So—who is to win this civil war in my soul: my heart or my mind? It seems as though my heart will always win because to follow my mind is to run from possibilities of love, where I should stay and become love’s acquaintance.

This is old. Indifference?

An abrupt reluctance to associate myself with the living and sense of reclusive desire forbid further conversation. I don't recognize myself anymore, and I begin to wonder if there's a time in everyone's life where this occurs. Pictures of memories are memories of another lifetime; of a life that was never mine. An empty void that once was only a mere fraction of my body has overtaken and spread throughout me. Now, I am nothing more than an empty casket of flesh. I've lost all sense of time. Every moment is another endless nightmare of continuous torture. Every moment is a lost thought, an emotionless love that faded. Moments are timeless. Although each second feels like several days, the days are empty and meaningless.. each passing moment seems as hopeless as the last. Whirlpools of logic less thoughts run through my mind as I witness the world pass me by. I let it pass me by. My thoughts are often silent and unheard. No one can understand me, I won't let anyone understand. This feeling is to unbearable for me to accept it as common . No one can feel this like I do. These feelings isolate me and set me apart from the rest. I see the hands that hold mine, but I do not feel the flesh. I witness this world, my world, go on as though I’ve dreamt it. My dreams are endless and exhausting. I'm left with less energy than before my rest. The night is never long enough, and the days are just waiting for the night. I wish I could sleep myself to happiness. I like to think of myself as handling this situation with honorary standards, but I know I let myself moap into depression. But even as I try to escape the feelings I face, I'm left with the same depressive emotions I feel otherwise. I have no will to go on, no determination to succeed. I accept my failures as they've become frequent. Conversations are just words without thought. Orders are another argument, another headache. Hunger emerges from the often overlooked space inside my stomach. I never struggle to fill every last molecule with unhealthy and destructive food. I eat my feelings away. It passes the time. There is constant hunger I can’t ignore; sudden addictions and cravings I can no longer resist. I’ve lost my self control. I’ve got no will to control. I’m just there, aimlessly floating among the world. I ramble in my mind with phrases that don’t make sense. But they do. They make complete sense. To me. Everything I knew, I don’t know anymore. I forgot. I forgot everything. All knowledge that pumped my mind, all talents I once had, have vanished along with my desires. My eyes know how to lie to others. I know how to pretend I'm okay. I'm always okay. How are you? Fantastic. I'm fantastic. I can be confident and fearless, as emotions are unfound. I can be cold and harsh, as my anger is bound to my soul. Each weekday awaits the weekend and each weekend awaits a plan. The plans come and go, and are lost in time. Along with me. I get lost in time. I get lost in the moments. They're so blank and empty. I'm so blank and empty. I forget the moment before, I forget the moment of. I lose the next moment while inside my mind, traveling through it. I don't know when this will end. I'm dead inside.

Rainy Summer.

It rained almost everyday that summer. It suited our hearts; it suited the whole year. The chaos of politics and the drama of new liberal movements seemed to devastate our memory of what had happened that year. The rain had captured the very mood that all had tried to escape through the theory of a wonderful, relaxing summer. It never fails to amaze me as I observe the importance of weather and its ability to so powerfully and undoubtedly affect an entire population's temper. Everyone suffered from some sort of pain--unequal to anything they had ever experienced in their lives. Everyone around me was suffering. I felt detached, yet not oblivious. I observed with neutrality; avoiding my natural instinct to incline my own mood by feeling compassion and sympathy for theirs. I enjoyed my general isolation from all their emotions. I knew of it--yet I ignored it. I did my best to avoid deepening discussions of how dreadful the world has become, how dark the skies have been for us all; the very same discussions that I used to long for. I used to long to be heard and to be believed. I used to long to Not Be Alone. And yet, no one is ever truly alone. In a world of billions of people, how can anyone ever be alone? How can any experience be solitary and completely unheard of? It is impossible. But yes, I was alone that summer, ignorant by choice of all the mischief of my surroundings. I was alone in heart, in mind and in grace..but in most of all, satisfaction. The hounding rain and exhilarating thunderstorms were terrific beyond belief. They excited my very being to a point of pure entertainment. You see--it is not the weather that so justiably controls our temperate moods, but it is our interpretation of the weather. And so, it rained almost everyday that summer. It was a beautiful sight, really.