2005-06-09 @ 12:40 p.m. The new day breeds neglect of self once more. I fall between the crevices of yesterday and today. When will the circling cease? I truly believed it was over and done in my mind. And perhaps in my mind, it was. But not in my heart. My heart is still attached, and the chains that bind me to him still tug until they tear the muscle from its home in my chest. Remnants of those days, those memories that sting in the open wounds… escape comes slow, if at all. Solving nothing, except to momentarily place myself in a false sense of reality that allows me to continue in the pain, living in the lie. Relishing each deceptive moment, because reality has left me broken.
Words fill the emptiness, and the void is filled with futile attempts to rise above the chaos. How can I put into words what I cannot understand, what I do not allow myself to feel? How do I describe the absence of something that I never had in actuality, yet held so closely in my mind?
Where do I turn when the one I depended upon to depend upon me is gone?
And that's all it comes down to. In the most coarse and blunt analysis of the situation, there is no more to it. I loved the love, I loved the dependence. What is there to live for now, when the one who lived for me has left? No, it was not a relationship. Not even a friendship in many aspects- but a dependence. I depended upon him to need me. Now the need is gone. And all the memories of the times when it lived flood through my mind, to the point where I find it difficult to breathe.
I'm afraid to move sometimes. I'm afraid to breathe, to exist, to make any impact on the world around me. Who am I to alter reality, to touch what I cannot see, to see what I cannot feel? Who am I to stir the air around me, to think beyond the confines of myself, to analyze the world around me?
Life comes in slow, staggered intervals. I see reality from behind. Staring through these eyes, the world is hazed. The world is shattered, ugly and distant from my heart. Yes, the tapestry of life is beautiful. But it is so difficult to comprehend that beauty when staring at the reverse side of it all. The threads hanging limply behind the scenes. So many aspects remaining unnoticed and hidden. I am the hidden thread. Would anyone even notice if I were to be suddenly torn away from it all? The impact would be so minimal. God, how I wish I could be golden.
And still, it remains the same. No amount of analytical words can begin to free this soul held captive in the confines of a broken reality.
My Past with No Future