Abysmal Heart Hymn.

It seems, it FEELS like everything isn’t real. Like the thoughts and emotions that course through my veins are fake. The thoughts I think are nothing but “lies.” I invalidate myself. I tell myself I shouldn’t be feeling this or that way, or that there isn’t a reason to feel or think whatever it is. I second-guess myself constantly. I split on myself, I split on others, I split on the very existence of this planet, this reality. What is anything, really?

My mind is in a perpetual state of doom. I’m constantly on edge. I’m waiting for the rain to fall, ready for everything I thought I believed to cave in. My brain is so depressive. I understand what’s happening, but my train of thought refuses to let me mend the broken pathways that should be leading me into a more positive direction. There are so many fucking roadblocks that every direction I go to head towards is closed off. So I’m just constantly running around looking for an exit. I rarely find one, and if I do, it’s often down a scraggly trail that eventually leads to nowhere, and I’m back where I started.

I have these misconceptions about people. I hear them, and I take what they say so personally- good or bad. I don’t trust anybody anymore that when I hear what they tell me, but those words end up hitting a wall. The moment my walls start to crumble, I quickly realize that the guards that were supposed to be doing their job didn’t, and so I have to go in there myself and rebuild the wall. Nobody is allowed in. Nobody is to be trusted. How can I believe anybody anymore? Everything they say has a cost, a cost I’m not willing to pay more than often. What if what they say is just one big lie? Why would I want to subject myself to another loss? Another broken heart? It just becomes another bullet inside my heart that takes forever to mend. I know I said I’m bulletproof, but after you’ve been shot again and again, one is bound to get through.

It’s so much easier to stare into the darkness that surrounds me. It’s so much easier to remain alone here. I wake up and the only burden I have is my own self-destruction. There isn’t another soul I have to consider. I don’t have to explain myself, I don’t have to compromise, I don’t have to be disposable or expendable. My insignificance is not at the hands of another. My heart isn’t held in their hands, ready to be crushed at any given moment. I’m not holding my breath, waiting for something to go wrong. My tears don’t fall from the dismay they leave me with when our world is turning upside-down, and I have nothing to hold onto because they’ve left me for dead.

I’m so tired of believing in something that has no substance. I’ve given my trust to people who are full of empty promises. What have I become? Who am I when I give all of me to everyone else? I wake up and I’m empty. The pain of yesterday spills into my consciousness the moment I open my eyes. The paranoia and anxiety come flooding in all over again. I am not my own. I’m a prisoner to everyone I’ve fed into. It’s taking me an endless amount of time dragging all the parts of me I’ve thrown out to people back home.

I’m unable to properly communicate all the things that I need. I don’t know how to say “no” to all of you. So you stomp all over me and ask for more and more. And I stupidly give in because maybe *this time* will be different.

It is NEVER different. I don’t think it ever will be.

So you take, and take, and take, and I’m ripping the skin off my body to appease you, and it’s still not enough. After I’ve destroyed myself for you and in vain, I lay here lifeless and stare into the abyss because I have no where else to go.

I’m floating into the imaginary light that lingers inside my world of darkness. I make-believe I feel the warmth on my face. I’m looking for the cure, but it resides nowhere in sight. The vibrations of my thoughts and emotions shatter into a million little pieces. I’m too tired to put myself back together. I know you won’t. What good am I to you if I can’t find the energy to give you all what you want? You’ll move on, and the memory of me dissipates from your train of thought. I’m left with the lies and beliefs I held onto because I wanted to trust you.

I’m so tired of believing in something that was never really there.

I’m tired of believing in all of you.






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These are the musings of a 32 y/o dreamer, wisher and doer. All my posts are authentic; I write what's in my heart.

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