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greyscale

This feeling of waiting for something that will never happen

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Help

Help me. I saw the moon perched above me on the brightly lit night sky and yet I'm drowning in complete darkness. Save me. I'm sobbing on the floor over our past and what was done, what was done to me and to him and to her and to us all. Kill me. As I obsess over my worthlessness and stalked a life or two that should had never have involved my fingerprint. Stab me - in my heart when I relive my horror over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. Let me die. In my heartbreak. Before you come home and I'll pretend that it's all okay.
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He has someone new

Funny, it's been a year since my Quarter life crisis note. What a foreshadowing post. At the time I was sensing that despite my seemingly perfect life (stable job, beautiful boyfriend and gorgeous dog) there was something not right. Oh the old me, how could you be so wise? A lot has happened since then. A wedding planned. Distressed calls across the world. Happiness, joy, anger, defiance. Thoughts of a paintball wedding in Roanoke. Snow multicam and black multicam for the bride and groom. A wedding cancelled. "Due to time & financial constraints". But I felt we didn't have our hearts in it anymore. Maybe it was just the timing. We could wait another 5 years for another anniversary - another Halloween to land on a weekend. No big deal. My work visa came in. I teared up at the office, hugs and laughs with my coworkers. Called the love of my life and announced the good news that I had worked and waited for several years to come true. Lukewarm reception. I wa...
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Rejection

Boggles my mind A question of self worth, of identity and longing How weak am I a creature to crave warmth from a stranger who has no such need. And here I thought I was the Amazonian, brave, and free Free from human desires , from the need to be accepted From the mundane, lowly earthly emotions. Yet here I am. I have never felt like I belong, always the sore thumb wherever I go Being an outcast is the norm, being indifferent is treasured all along. Always pride myself in my lack of attachment Always strive to remove the self from the mass. Yet here I am. Shedding tears for one I don't know. Don't love. Don't have. Do I simply crave human touch after all? Do I want something I can't have? Or do I truly ache for you?
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