ceedearest
It was the staple to put it all together. I'm not even sure how that works out, but it most definitely stabbed into my chest a little. There it was, the dirty little detail that wrapped every worst memory and feeling together, shining in the light just to prove how worthless I was. It really was unnecessary; I already knew.
It was the dessert to top off a horrific meal. The kind that makes your stomach hurt just thinking about it. He was a dreadfully burned one-course meal with a chaser of rotten fruit pie. I wallowed in the absolute pain of the taste in my mouth, almost even savored it. Not because I had a taste for the acrid, but because I felt that I could never deserve more.
It was dull. Dull, dull, dull, she echoed through her head as she sat against the hard brick that scraped her bare back. Her fancy dress was ruined, obviously, and its low back wasn't doing her any favors now in the chill and rough texture of the wall behind her. Sigh. Fuck life.
It's a mystery that anyone ever cared about me. I was broken, stupid, something that shopkeepers would hide in the back so no one would want to buy me until I was placed on clearance, 90% off. Even then, I would be bought by someone who thought they could pull me to pieces and only acknowledge the good to morph it into their own ideas. I couldn't be what I wanted to be, that's never good enough.
I once pondered the meaning of existence. Whether it was worth it to keep on trying, why the rains always fell and people continued to starve. Who determines who falls in love and who misses the chance. Whether love is worth it at all. Why everyone will always feel inadequate. And then I realized it doesn't matter, as long as you keep surviving. All we care about in the end is happiness, and no one knows how to reach it.
It was the cutest umbrella, and it made my heart ache. A tiny thing, she wore ladybug galoshes and a hot pink raincoat, guarding herself from the downpour with a miniature transparent umbrella. It was in that moment that I first noticed the absence present in my life, the fact that I was here, no wedding ring and no family, and she was hopping from puddle to puddle, her mother's loving gaze following her. I couldn't help but wonder if my sacrifices were worth the wound in my chest.
It was punishment, and I had a feeling she knew it. She simply held her gaze on mine, steely blue and scarier in it's grip than ever before. I could only sit and squirm, not weak enough to break the trance but not strong enough to call her out. I couldn't help but feel like I was inadequate, and this was her way of telling me.
There are never the answers you're looking for, only many more questions. I like to pretend that these questions are extravagant, poignant, the sort of thing that is philosophical and makes you stumble upon those solutions. But more often than not, they become a maze, and I find myself stumbling over my own feet, looking right and left desperately in the hopes that there are ways to get free when there never will be. Only more questions, and fewer answers.
It hit me like a brick, like a load of concrete on my chest. I even huffed a slight oof, so taken aback was I by the pain brought by shock. I couldn't believe it, and I didn't know that I ever would be able to. It was a weight on my soul, a catch in my throat, a glare in my eyes. It scared me in that instant with more terror than I had ever thought I was capable of, that possibility of being trapped here, alone.
It was a blank canvas, and it ripped through my soul, like I was the canvas and it was a razor blade. I stared and stared until my eyes tingled with dry pain, but still there was nothing that I felt was worthy of its pure surface. Perhaps that's what I am, empty, alone, waiting for someone willing enough to cast their shadow on my soul. A blank canvas, yearning to be touched by an artist.
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writing since 2011 · 26 entries · 25 days shown up
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the words Carolynn reaches for
souleyeshatedsmilefeelingperfectheartlovequestionsbelievecheststationtearspainrealizeddull