Jul 20, 2022
1 mins read
Trying to make something out of this. To carry on when I wish I didn't by default move my feet.
I at times wish I could stop creating as a way of expressing what others want not to hear, and have arms, warm, that embraced, (some comfort you know?), moved by a mind that didn't judge. (I missed that opportunity.)
It's… You see, it was ok, it was stable, after much work, (the routine, the life, the plans,) and what I wished came to fruition, and I'm, now ,watching it crumble around me. Doing my best to grab the pieces and put them back together, (somehow,) yet I don't have the strengths. I'm hungry, with a smile on my face. (It'll pass.)
Yet, part of my soul is beaten, battered and dusty. You don't see this one, for I smile. Or you imagine me so, when I write the hahahas, yes. I laugh, (for a while). I get the joke, and have fun. But it's still there. The void. That place that lingers with her scent. Their. Who will replace ? (Does it need filling?) I wish it didn't, because it hurts to love.
Sense? Oh, I'm not speaking in riddles, no. You have to read the others to understand, piece by piece will fall into place. You are way ahead in the story, go back. Grieve with me, and let me show you how I Wasted my own Heart.
Back to it. Yes. The void. The beaten soul.
It burns. It does shine bright, and there is that constant smile when the light touches the skin of the Deity, chosen. (Maybe the light blinds? Tires the eyes? I'm intense after all.) But is there is such thing as too much love? Apparently, yes. There is. And it leaves you with a self-made third degree burn. It takes a while to heal, and that while is long. I mean, you can't possibly forget, the ones you truly loved. I'm accepting the defeats, slowly.
"In Sanity" is an experimental WIP that combines the approach of Griever, MHS and a memoir. It will be a prose-like memoir. At least that's how it sounds like, lol.