My Sanity

Green grass once grew in these places. A wonderful meadow. A beautiful sky.

Everything reeks these days. The putrid smell that finds its way into your nostrils despite efforts to avoid it is most vexing. The grass, gone, leaving dirt and filth. The sky is black, lightning and thunder is the only weather ever forecasted.

This place used to be a place of serenity. It used to have a calm air about it that simply soothes the savage beast within. Everything about its beauty is in the past.

I used to think, if I had a potion to let me dream forever I would. But dreams turned to nightmares and nightmares were eventually all I had. It never really is about receiving what you wish for is it? Only ever receiving what you wished you would never have.

Take my hand and walk with me, even if we were to part ways eventually, everything else is unimportant, so please, please walk with me.

And for a while the grass grew, the clouds fade, and for the first time in a very long time, the sun shined onto my face, kissing my cheeks, its warmth radiated to the very core of my soul. Even for a while, bliss feels like eternity.

The fork on the road ahead looks menacing, unforgiving, even cruel. Please understand that I hold tightly onto your hands because I don't really want to let go, even though I know I have to. Please don't hate me for using you, despite your willingness to be used. Please please don't hate me.

Walking alone, I didn't look back. I didn't want to. I couldn't. Cause it hurts as it is. To see what could have been would hurt me more. I'm tired of being hurt. I'm tired of the pain I feel. It's so common it feels almost like a part of me, and I hate it. I absolutely hate it.

I can almost hear it as the madness descends. The sky is filled with thunder and lightning. Each strike throws up the carcasses that make the ground. Each and everyone of them stink more than the filth before. If I had anything in me I would throw up again.

In the end, I really can't stop myself from falling into my abyss of misery. Everything hurts. But sometimes, I can hear people speaking to me from the other side. I want to call out to them, I do, but my voice never comes out, not anymore.

Is it sad to think that I have learned to sit still in my own little world? Do you pity me? Please don't. If you can't stand to see me as I am, please don't so much as look at me. I don't need your pity, and I surely don't care for your disgust.

There is beauty in anything if you stare at it long enough. Up on my mountain of rotten things, I have learned to see the beauty in the wreckage. Just leave me here. I don't need your saving, not anymore.