Tag Archives: Pain

Reality Strikes

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Sometimes reality can hit us like a ton of bricks, when we least expect it. And sometimes it’s force can strike so hard, that it even sets us back. Understanding other people’s pain is something we as humans will never have the ability to do. Just because there is always someone else out there suffering more than us, does not mean we should disregard our own struggles by any means. However, it should really make us sensitive to the fact that we shouldn’t push our own problems on people all the time. We never know what that other person is going through.

Yesterday I received news that an old friend of mine from high school passed away. He was one of the sweetest people I have ever encountered in my life. So genuine and humble, he really was. But he was also one of the saddest people I knew. He was never able to conquer his own demons. And they got the best of him. Perhaps he is in a better place now, free from pain. I hope so at least.

As I get older I hear many more shocking stories that I don’t want to accept. The harshness of reality is not something I am ready to take on. The world can truly be an ugly place’ compiled of many ugly people trying desperately to make the most of it, put on a mask and appear beautiful.

 

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In My Soul

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You never called yourself by your real name.

Nobody else did either because they were afraid,

because the real you was a monster.

Your nicknames would make you feel invincible,

but you were far from that.

We felt you in our bones,

our flesh,

our bloodstreams,

anywhere we could feel, you were there to haunt us.

You wrote me words to tell me you loved me-

they made me feel warm, I felt special,

like I was the tallest woman on earth.

Those were not words of compassion-

those were words of ownership, they were blasphemous;

they were like your many nicknames.

My body was not my own.

You would tell me things like:

Don’t wear that color makeup,

it makes you look like a slut.

Don’t show your skin, nobody else can see that but me.

What would my punishment be this time for breaking the rules-

Would you yell at me until I felt so helpless I would sob?

Would you squeeze my wrists so hard when I would try to escape you,

so my wrists would turn blue?

Would you breathe the smell of whiskey into my mouth and tell me to just do it?

I used to love the many, beautiful scents of candles.

I would fill my room with them,

sometimes light them when you’d come over.

I thought they may impress you

and maybe you could love them as much as I did.

But now I pick them up and imagine you chucking it’s glass at me,

all because I tried to comfort you.

When other men touch me I quiver,

because I remember you touching me

and it hurts.

Since then I cannot feel real trust

and it’s taken me years to love myself,

because for years I was blinded by fake love

and thought I was a princess, but really

I was a slave.

My body was not my own.