i hate that i cant cry anymore

Inside of Me

I hardly eat anymore. I'm always empty yet food doesn't seem to fill up the right holes. So I don't eat. When your heart's this heavy and your minds this full, extra weight pulling you down just makes you seem more vunerable, more empty. Because your stomachs full, full of yummy things, things that you should get joy from, but instead your mind feels more burdened, your heart so full of sorrow anything that reminds you of anything brings tears to your eyes, so you block out everything, you ingnore the enpty pit in your stomach, you barely notice it because with all the emptiness inside you, you forget that it's meant to be filled. The saddest part is that I need the burdens, sorrows that fill up my heart and bring me down, because with out them I'm hollow, I'd be taken away with the wind as my vessel. With out them I'm a hollow log, nothing to no one and no one to nothing. I hate it. I hate that I'm so fragile, so boney, so.... breakable. I hate that I need them. Need them to be more than an empty shell. I hate that i LIKE them, i hate that I want them to stay because with them goes my most precious memories. The ones that, although cause me great pain, mean the most to me. Small ones, ones that no one remembers, ones that are just middle moments, moments between events when nothing happens but everything happens, moments that mean nothing but, when later studied, bring on a whole new vocabulary of feeling. These burdens give me insight, give me imagination, I can imagine whole new worlds, worlds so real I still don't know if they are imagined or not. I know I'm insignificant, I know I'm no one, but I am someone, maybe I'm a lie, maybe I'm a full time actress, but I can love. So that must mean something. That must mean that the twisted wreck of a soul I have inside me still longs to be. Still longs to feel somethihng besides pain and devistation for a little bit. To feel that maybe I'm not acting, that my worlds of Imagination are real, even if only to myself. Me and my soul can make it out, we can pull through, I've just got to cling to my love, to all that I love. We will pull through it, together.

I trust the red sun setting,
The leafless November trees.
On monday morning I look forward
Fearlessly to Friday's eve.

But humans are not as reliable
As nature, as trees.
I wonder if you'll come back;
I trust only that you'll leave.
- John Galardi

'Why is it that we torture ourselves with love? We hope and wish for that special someone for so long, and it hurts so much to see them love someone else. When we finally get the person of our dreams, they leave sooner or later, gone from your life like a feather floating away in the wind, never to be seen again. We cry endlessly for many nights, remembering their smiles, their kind words, their warm embrace. You can't help but feel joy when you think of their sweet kisses or that special feeling you get whenever you see them. You dream of them and wake up smiling, until you realize it was only a dream and the closest thing you have to that person are the memories and times you shared, that made it all worthwhile. I guess that's why we torture ourselves with love.' -Lisa Gilbert

dusk

'dusk is just an illusion, becuase the sun is either above the horizon or below it.
this means that day and night are linked in a way that few things are; there cannot be one without the other, yet they cannot exist at the same time.
i wonder....how it feels to be always together, but forever apart...' -

The perfect escape route.

Life is like a tunnel.
You don't know where you're going
but do we really want to?
Do we really want to see our future pain?
Who dies first?
Who's left grieving?
Who suffers worst?
But on the other hand
do we really want to see what makes us happy?
Would our lives turn into a movie we've already seen
and make those amazing moments that build your soul
whether they're good or bad,
Meaningless shit we've already seen?
Do we really want to die twice?
Feel the horrible pain and darkness of death over and over?
Depending on how many times we see see death before us and
Evade its eager clutches?
Do we really want to know what fate lies ahead of us?
So we never see.
Whether its because some tiny part of us knows its ugly,
a tiny part that resists the urge,
the urge that some people fight and win,
fortune tellers and gypsies
they grasp what we never will,
they are stronger than all of us,
yet we think they're mad..
While we resist we think,
I mean never seeing the future should let us concentrate on
the now right?
wrong.
Instead we get so caught up in the past we loose ourselves in
our guilt and insecurity.
We agonise ourselves over every little mistake we make
Every little fall we fell
Every little stutter of the person we really are we show
We kill ourselves everyday
Everyday that person deep down inside shrinks deeper and deeper
inside ourselves until eventually we can never reach them.
Not even the most extensive coaxing can bring them out
Not the deepest truest love
and nothing is stronger than that.
We screw ourselves over more and more
we are our biggest problem.
But this tunnel of ours,
it cant tolerate our shit.
Every sad thing that happens digs us a hole,
every guilty thought that eats away at us,
well it eats away at the soil beneath us,
every comment that we let hurt us,
digs us deeper and deeper until we can't get out.
We all know when we're in it,
we all feel that loneliness,
That total and utter despair of rotting in a dark scary hole,
So we get it over and done with,
we jump off bridges,
we stab pencils into our brains,
we slice open our bodies,
all to get out of this stupid hole that we alone dig.
But the thing is that we did dig it,
we have the power to dig it,
we are the power
we control it,
but we let it control us.
But we need to take that control back,
we need to un-dig what we've dug.
Un-do what we've done,
Un-justify the things that seemed right at the time but are so wrong,
things that we let ourselves spew over for how long?
too long.
So here we have it.
The perfect escape route:
Ourselves.
We climbed down,
though we think we fell,
we climbed,
willingly,
into the clutches of possession,
into this darkness and despair,
so we climb back up.
In theory its the easiest thing,
in reality,
it's going to be a heck of a job.
But the main thing is that we believe it.
Believe we can climb.
Because we can.
And we will.
We will climb.