Wishing the water from the pipe would wash away every thought in my head, I stood there. It felt like the tears from millions of men and women who were lost in the world had found there way to me, wanting to drown me in deeper sorrow. What is this feeling? Earlier I read a post my brother said, “I think I’m afraid to be happy because whenever you do get too happy, something bad always happens,” if only he knew how many times those same words were spoken out of my mouth and into this evil dark heartless world; the same world that welcomes us with open arms and spit us out like garbage.
Sorrow. I’m so fed up of naming emotions that face me in the middle of my happiness. The same emotions that make it their business to tear me apart and leave me lying open on the busy highways like road kill that never gets pushed to the side. I feel it. Everything. The sad realization of finally realizing that what I’ve been hoping for, what I may have been searching for my whole life, can never be reached in this state of mind. Knowing so, trying to ease my way out of this pitiful lifestyle but having no other choice but to rot in what I know. But you say we all have a choice, not I.
I don’t want you to understand, I want you to know better and teach me differently. Yes, I will rebel. I will fight but I don’t want you to give up teaching me better. I daydreamed the day I lost you, the sight of your blood on my hands, your heart ceasing to beat but there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel; someone saved you and I stayed with you.
I’m not ready to do this by myself again but I’m too stubborn to try to work together.
I’ll just keep trying to remember that it’s not over yet.