sunnyspellsandscatteredshow-blog - Tumblr blog

[sunnyspellsandscatteredshow-blog]

rise

one day you will be able to look at yourself in the mirror,

stare into two pools of honey,

and ignite a fire within your soul.

you will burn your insides to the ground,

and like a phoenix, rise from the ashes.

[sunnyspellsandscatteredshow-blog]

hero

someday, i’ll come to love myself in all the ways you once claimed to.

i will not let myself be broken for long.

i will use tape and glue to put myself back together.

i do not need you.

i never have.

the utter realization however, is that i want you.

i want you more than the air in my lungs.

i want you more than the blood in my veins.

i want you more than I want to hear the beating of my own heart.

but, i can not have you.

when you came along, i was broken.

i allowed you to help put me back together, piece by piece.

all the while sewing pieces of you into me where they would fit.

a few slivers in my heart, and a huge chunk in my soul.

you really did complete me.

but you left, and i am broken again.

taking with you, those pieces you gave me of yourself.

unraveling all the stitches holding the broken pieces together.

i wasn’t just left with missing pieces.

i was left a shattered mess on the floor.

someday, i’ll come to love myself in all the ways you once claimed to.

i will not need pieces from anyone to fix myself.

i know better now.

i will rise to the occasion.

i will be my own hero.

[sunnyspellsandscatteredshow-blog]

a conversation with my brain

“you have had a pretty tough year kid.

shall we go through all of the terrible things we’ve been through?”

My Brain whispers to me as i try to fall asleep.

i’m too exhausted to fight, so My Brain begins to wander.

he leads me down a dark path,

traveling to the deepest, darkest depths of my soul.

My Brain, being a cruel creature of my own creation, begins to dig.

i physically begin to feel pain as he pulls out words and throws them around in my head. worthless, nothing, failure, disappointment, hatred.

i felt like i was falling.

he was pushing me further and further to the edge of a cliff i really needed to get down from.

we used to be friends.

he would help me create beautiful works of art and literature,

until one day, he no longer did.

he only helped my demons trap me.

he helped my emotions run wild and free.

he helped create terrible coping mechanisms.

eventually, he turned against me all together.

never encouraging me.

only dragging me down.

unfortunately, i’ve gotten so used to it.

fighting back isn’t an option,

so i just let him beat me and abuse me in any way he pleases.

he has conditioned me to think this way.

to think this is okay.

but it’s not, and i can’t stop him.

[sunnyspellsandscatteredshow-blog]

exist

existing is hard.

it’s not that i don’t want to live,

it’s that my lungs are always filled with sand,

there is always a subtle ache in my chest,

my heart,

always wanting to explode, a ticking time bomb.

i am in a constant state of exhaustion.

fighting with my body between sleep and worry.

no matter how hard i try.

escaping this hole that my sad soul has dug,

seems utterly impossible.

no amount of help i receive gives relief,

my therapist is even at a loss for words.

a perpetual state of stuck-ness.

trapped like a fly caught in honey.

fighting against the stickiness and the thickness of the world around me. i no longer want to live, but I don’t want to die either,

can you see my dilemma?

[sunnyspellsandscatteredshow-blog]

Novel, turned suicide note

I started writing what I thought would be a great novel, but it ended up being my suicide note...

[sunnyspellsandscatteredshow-blog]

The beginning of the end...

I’m tired of existing. I’m tired of going day by day, having to do the same things. I wake up, go to work, come home, do school work, sleep.

I wish I could sleep all the time. I don’t have to think while I’m asleep. I don’t have to pretend. I’m tired of pretending that I’m okay. Clearly, I’m not. No one seems to notice.

I was doing great for a few years. Everything started to fall apart again. I lost my girlfriend, my family is getting smaller and smaller by the decade, my moms drinking herself into an early grave, and my thoughts are constantly attacking me.

I’m tired of existing. And when I say existing, I don’t mean killing myself. Or maybe I do I just don’t have the guts to actually go through with it, because let’s face it. I can’t do anything right, and God forbid I screw up and don’t successfully kill myself. What becomes of me then? I’ll end up in a psych ward with medical bills piling up for “treatment”. Then, things will be even more stressful.

I told my therapist I was tired of existing, and she hasn’t done anything about it yet. I figured she would have me committed, but I guess I’m not worth it. I’ve thought about committing myself, but again, the thought of those medical bills creeped into my mind. I wouldn’t be able to work so I wouldn’t be able to pay what bills I already have, because I’m committed and not working.

Life is fucked up and I’m tired of existing. Life shouldn’t be this hard. Or lack there-of.

I started praying. To God. I stopped going to church years ago, but he’s forgiving right? He’ll hear my prayers and help me when I need it. Right?

I’m tired of existing.

So damn tired.

[sunnyspellsandscatteredshow-blog]

Once I was Seven Years Old...

I was 8 actually. When my father left. I guess that’s how my story begins. How it all starts.

I remember the day like it was yesterday, but I can’t seem to remember much before that, just the bad.

My mom and my dad would fight. A lot. The screaming and yelling would get so bad, I hid in my closet. That was my safe zone.

To my mom, my sister and I were a pawn. I remember hearing her scream “you have two children who worship the ground you walk on, but you don’t give a damn about either one of them”.

That’s the day my father put his hand through a wall. Right beside my moms head. I’d never seen him so angry before, and I sure as hell picked a wonderful time to come out of hiding to make sure my mom was okay. I saw my father standing there. Red in the face. His chest going up and down from his anger. And when he saw me, he softened, his demeanor changed.

The night night my father fell down the stairs. It was after an argument him and my mother had, and he was too angry to open the baby hate at the top of the stairs and ending up getting caught, tripped and fell all at the same time. He swears my mother pushed him. She jokes about it now. Says that if she did push him he would of been dead when he hit the bottom. I’m not sure what to believe.

It wasn’t long after that, that my dad put me in the school bus one morning and promised to come pick me up straight after school instead of going to the baby sitters. I hated the babysitters.

After school that day, I waited and waited at the babysitters for him to come pick me up and he never did. My mom finally came to pick me up, and all I remember is getting home and running straight upstairs. Looking for my dad. I opened his closet, his clothes were gone. I opened his drawers. Empty.

That’s when I felt heart ache for the first time. Abandonment. I was only 8 and he left without saying goodbye.

My mom put me in therapy because I wouldn’t eat. I hardly slept. And I just cried all the time for my father.

I never saw him again. That was until I was 16.

After he left I was forced to grow up rapidly. My mother was an alcoholic. But even so I didn’t have a terrible life. She made sure me and my sister were taken care of. My grandparents helped. A lot. And I always felt love. But besides that, no one really knows what I had to deal with when it came to my mothers drinking. The nights she would pass out on the couch. A few times I thought she was dead.

As the years went on, I learned how to deal with it. My mother eventually met my step father. Me and him butted heads at first. But I started to like him when I was about 13 or so.

My father abandoned my sister and I though. He hardly called. Sent gifts occasionally. Never saw him.

That’s the point my life started to make no sense. I never understood how cruel the world was until then.

The only thing I managed to gain from my father was his artistic skills. That’s it’s.

I hardly talk to him now because of the kind of person he is. Self centered. Only cares about himself and what he wants.

I went to Florida to visit him when I was about 22. My girlfriend and I paid for everything. And he didn’t even bat an eyelash. He even tried getting me to buy him a new Xbox. Like that was gonna fucking happen.

I learned something then. The grass ain’t always greener on the other side. He didn’t care about his kids, and that’s a shame, because he missed out on some pretty great kids.