Prose And Poetry

Sometimes I need to apologize. Sometimes I need to admit that I am not right. Sometimes I should just keep my mouth shut...... Sometimes I still feel I'm walking alone. Alone. Alone in between these walls that keep getting smaller and smaller the more I try to go through them. They tighten around me as I crouch myself to keep moving to just get to the other side, where I will be free. The freedom to do any sort of movement. To stretch my arms and legs and to let my mind roam free where it was being concealed between these walls, where it wasn't letting me see the bigger picture. But to be able to do that I sometimes need to apologize, Sometimes I need to admit that I am not right, Sometimes I should just keep my mouth shut, then I won't feel like I'm walking alone.

It's what people call when they've met someone who will meet their standards, someone who will be with them for the rest of time...... Only to find out that they didn't love them back.

Turn out the lights. Close your eyes. Turn up the silence, the heartache of your life. Dance forever, under the lights, This Brutal Love. Oh how you want it, You're begging for it, But you can't have it even if you try. It's in the clutches, in the hands of This Brutal Love. Old toys, this plastic heart. Loners and fools are tearing me apart. Here comes trouble, the uninvited, This Brutal Love. Danger, not quite at home. The eyes of temptation, the flesh on my bones. Hello stranger, I'm a disaster, This Brutal Love. Bad luck, pities, and soda, anguish, and shame; the modern fool. Bad sex, buy me a trainwreck, something for my troubled mind. Bad luck, pities, and soda, anguish, and shame; the modern fool. Bad love, kiss me I'm roaded, something for my troubled mind. Drop out, drop dead hideous. How low is this Brutal Love? (4x) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84VP50arSL8

Give me anesthesia. Give me anesthesia so I won't have to feel the pain. Put me to sleep peacefully so my brain won't have to go through this again. Oh my heart, my aching little heart, open it up to relieve the pressure, the pressure of having to be this person who feels he has to fit to everybody's wants. It won't take much longer for it to explode, for it to be shattered and empty. It can't take much longer. Give me anesthesia to put me to sleep, not for a while, but for forever. Give me anesthesia so people won't have to look me in the eye and say "I told you so." Give me anesthesia and put me to sleep so that nobody else has to deal with another failure.

A scar without a knife is just a scratch, just nothing. It's not something that can just..... disappear. No. A scar is much worse than just a scratch. A scar hurts.  A scar leaves a mark for life. A scar is a reminder of the pain you've endured. A reminder of the tough times you've gone through. But, what's the knife? Could it have been a person? Maybe. It's not like it matters. The damage has been done already.

It's a deep dark pit of self-blame, self- hatred, and loneliness, and so many other things I cannot write on this paper. You feel like you're nothing like you're there and the next minute you're not, like dust carried by the wind because that's what we all are. You wish someone would come from the outside, someone who's on the top and tell you that it's all ok and that there's nothing to fear. You feel really separated from the rest of the world, abandoned or unappreciated and just left alone to rot in a hole. Can love fill that void? Can it make you forget all the bad things that you've gone through? Well, it can. If you can make the love last, you can. Sometimes, we spend so much time looking for our half, our love, that we may not even realize that they could be right under our noses or we may die never being able to fill that void in our hearts. If you found love, if you found your half of your heart, enjoy every single little moment ...

Let me close some doors Let me close some doors, not because of pride or arrogance, but because there's no way through them anymore. But why? Why am I closing them? What led me to do this? There's a reason for it, just how there's a reason behind everything. It could be something someone did. It could be an emotion, a feeling that led to this specific doing. Something mentally damaging, something.....irreversible. Let me close some doors so that I won't have to go through the same thing again. Let me close some doors so that I won't end up with a broken heart anymore. Let me close some doors so that I won't have to go through this seemingly long neverending hallway of darkness, pain, and regret.  Let me close some doors, not because of pride or arrogance, but because there's no way through them anymore.

What would happen if I were to disappear?  Just like that. By whatever reason. How many people would get affected by it? Would anyone.... grieve? Would anyone miss me? How would people react?  How many people will go to my funeral? What if my time came, to leave behind everything and everyone I love. Death comes like a thief at night. Unexpected, taking you by surprise. Or you invite it in and you say to it, "Take me away already. Why continue? I have nothing anymore. No reason, no purpose." It's hard not to think about it. It just comes out of nowhere. Just a thought. Or sometimes someone says something that really puts that thought into process, sometimes, it could be your own family. It can be hard, to express that thought to other people, thinking that they might be able to help you. Sometimes they'll help you, but other times they'll just criticize you. When that happens you start to think, "Is there something wrong with me?" "...

Mistakes happen all the time. They can teach us something or they can really make us regret something we did. But when I make a mistake, don't come to me and shove it in my face saying it was all my fault. I know what I did and I'm not proud of it. But please, don't come repeating it to me like it'll do any good at all, because it won't. The only thing it'll do is reopen the wound that was already starting to heal. IT HURTS!! But, there's a limit on how many times you can reopen a wound. There's a point where those nerves around the wound begin to die, those feelings, then you begin to feel nothing at all, and it doesn't hurt you anymore. That's how you get a stone, cold-hearted person. The scar is there, but it's ugly because of how many people have messed with it. Don't be one of those people that "forgive's"  but doesn't forget.

When I ask you to listen, and you start to give me advice, you have not done what I asked. When I ask you to listen to me, and you begin to tell me why I shouldn't feel that way, you are trampling on my feelings. When I ask you to listen to me and you feel you have to do something to solve my problems, you have failed me, strange as that may seem. LISTEN! All I asked was that you listen, not talk or do, just listen. And I can do for myself. I'm not helpless, maybe discouraged and faltering, but not helpless. Please just listen. Don't make matters worse for trying to make things the right way, your way, and only making me feel worse than what I was before. Why do you think you have to correct me every time you feel the need to do so? Why do you feel the need to consult me every time I say something you think is irrational when all I'm trying to do is tell you my emotions? I would rather be the hard-stoned, cold-hearted person you think I am than to speak with...