a little bit of a resurrection
my life journal: cutmedown








fleeting


Why is it so hard for me to live? I feel sick to my stomach. I am sick with life. I have a bad case. It looks lethal. I close my eyes to escape. I close my eyes to escape, but I never do.

I am a shattered mirror. Look into me, you will see pieces of yourself, but only disfigured ones.

Why is there a faint voice that calls to me, that pleads to me?

stop breathing, please, stop breathing

Should I be afraid? Because I am not. It's all a bad dream. You were never battered, you were never beaten, you were not betrayed. It's just a bad, bad dream. You did not get raped! You were never told that you are worthless! Stop telling yourself these things, just wake up.

stop breathing, please, stop breathing

It comes and goes in lapses. I can escape to lighter places. It's all about control. Just need to reach back, to the warm places. The sunny places. Echoing laughter, smiles. Fresh air, lite breath. Fleeting happiness.

But why does it always have to be fleeting?


written on 2003-04-20 at 12:13 a.m.

she / lost