Today is an odd day. I can’t seem to make heads or tails of it.
I knew what I had to do and I did it. The predicted “fallout” was a lot more benign than I imagined.
Now the ball is in my possession, I just have to make a move.
I’m more grateful than ever and it’s truly a blessing just to be able to type this post.
I need to take control of my destiny and create the life I want not the life I don’t want.
I guess we will see what the morrow brings. For now I’m hoping it’s something good.
Rain, rain, please don’t go away…
Stay with me today and be my friend.
Everything feels like it’s at a standstill.
Sometimes I like feeling like the only person on the planet.
I don’t know why.
There’s something comforting about the silence. The pattern of the rain and the grey, dreary sky.
So, so quiet.
All I can hear is my thoughts and the pitter patter of the rain.
Engulfed in deafening silence.
All I can see is my pain.
It’s like a mountain standing in front of me.
I just don’t have the tools to climb over and get to the other side.
I feel like the light in me has gone out. I can’t trust anyone, there is no one who will spark it.
I’d give anything just to be happy. Why do I have to face these obstacles every day? It doesn’t feel like it’s getting easier, only harder.
I don’t think I need much. I just want to live in a place where there is trust, love and goodwill.
How can I overcome all this if I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel? It may all work out in the end but all I see is me suffering right now.
Have mercy.
My heart has been smashed into a million pieces.
Have you found your new home yet?
…
I see. There’s no need to rush things. In the meantime, why don’t you try making yourself at home?
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I see. That’s unfortunate. Just wait and it’ll happen.
…
And by wait I don’t mean waste time. There is a lot of living to be done before you find the right place.
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Maybe it would make it easier if you believed that that place was already being prepared for you.
…
See, you don’t see it now but your bed has already been made. And it will remain. So there is no need to stress.
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Must we go on about this any longer? I’m starting to grow tired.
…
Good night.
I can birth the story but when I do, it takes on a life of its own.
I can scribble my true feelings onto paper but now it’s more than a poem.
I can live and take my bed up here and still have it not be my home.
I can have friends for life but really still be alone
I can have a heart of flesh but really have a heart of stone
I can pretend to not be affected but still be prone
I can write you a poem on your birthday, written in prose
Artistic Apathy 