Lost and not found
|Writing is my escapism. The thoughts I'm too afraid to speak out loud, I'll do here.|
It's so hard to write today.
When the task is to write for my future that's one thing. But to write the thoughts I have buried deep within myself about the one thing I tell myself I can't think about, it becomes a near impossible task.
I need this so, I must push on even if these thoughts spread like a disease and I become lost.
Wish me luck.
I am a naive lovestruck dreamer.
Reaching for the truth only to get burned by the light.
The truth that love is non-existent in my world. Some unobtainable goal that could never be achevied.
My dreams haunt me. Teasingly, dangling what "could" be in front of me.
Then I wake up, head pounding like I drank too much and my fingers asleep like they've been holding on to something all night.
I can't escape the pain. And he will never know.
Has someone ever told you, you're beautiful in the morning? Has anyone ever told you that something tastes of you? Or that they find comfort in the scent of you?
But what does that mean for me?
If I am so beautiful, so sweet, and so comforting then why do I feel so broken?
I really wish that was a thing I could do.
My mind is cloudy, my eyes dry, my head sore. And even when I close my eyes I wake to jolts of heat flashes in my sleep.
Doesn't seem like something I can do anymore.
I want to forget.
Forget whaqt I feel. Forget what I know.
I want freedom from the prison of my thoughts. I suffer in the pain of being unable to touch and be touched.
Maybe someone, somewhere, can touch my heart and trim the vines that snare it.