My life is practically over. You've done this me. You've killed me. No one understands my pain. No one understands what I'm going through. Everyday I have to face reality. My reality.
Ridicule.
Insults.
Criticism.
Shame.
I’m always put down. Treated like I’m nothing. Everybody thinks I have the perfect life. The perfect smile they see everyday. The perfect twinkle in my eyes. I’m not what I perceived to be, that’s what they don’t know. I’m not that happy-go-lucky girl everyone sees from day to day. I’m not her. I’m someone different. Someone no one has ever met or seen, or heard about.
I’m me.
Like a little girl in a dark room, sometimes I just want to curl up into a little ball. All I wanna do is curl up into a little ball. I’ve tried my hardest to get people to understand me.
Of who I really am.
Of who I really want to be.
I want to be heard. I want to be understood. I want to be listened to. I want to be loved. You can’t give me material possessions for I have no care for those. What would I need of objects that I can’t keep forever?
Because they break.
They tatter.
They wear out.
Like my heart.
The one thing I’ve kept dear. The one thing I took care of and guarded all my life. I regret ever thinking that someone will eventually take care of it for me. That someone will protect it. I regret ever giving it to a stranger who knew how fragile it was and yet was careless about it. I regret having one in the first place. For as long as I can remember I have to tried not to care for things not worth caring for. I have tried not to let the outside world crush my little dreams as a child. But trying so hard to avoid everything, I never realized one obvious fact. And that I regret. In order no to care at all the one thing I have to dismiss is the one thing I’ve treasured.
But how can I let something so precious and so fragile to just disappear? It’s not that easy, I know. But what do I care now?
What good is a heart so cold to the world of a lonesome girl?
It’s already been battered.
Beaten.
Put to shame.
And let down.
I can’t take care of it anymore. I can’t take care of me anymore. I don’t know how. I thought I did but I was wrong. Like the many times I’ve thought. Everything has been so hard. So awful. With every crisis going on in the world I haven’t had the time for anything but cry. To shed tears seems so weak. But what else can I d? That’s the only way I can get rid of this heavy burden that God has weighed on my shoulders. I cry for the starving children.
For the people mourning.
For the people who had died.
For me.
That’s my fault. For having a heart so caring and understanding I feel everything. I feel hurt. I feel shame. I feel the world. Such a burden weighed would have killed even the strongest man alive. Physically and emotionally. So why haven’t I shriveled up and gone to waste? I’ve thought about it, yes, but never really put it into action. I guess I was afraid.
Afraid of what awaits me in the world beyond this life.
Afraid that whatever is there waiting for me isn’t happy with what I’ve done in the short time I had on earth.
Afraid that I was just a waste of breath that isn’t worth anything for.
Afraid of me.
So many things to think about and yet nothing can satisfy the question I’ve clouded my mind with. So now, as I sit in the dark, alone in the world, I as myself, “Is it worth it?” A question filled with multiple answers still left unsolved. Like my life. This ….. is my life.
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