Nomad's twisted head
It's hard to put my thoughts on paper, or into a post when my head is spinning and rest is what they say I need the most. All the thoughts, all the worriy, all the sorrow. When I post this it'll probably look stupid by tomorrow. But here they all are, laid bare and set plain so maybe someone can help me unravel my twisted brain.
Thought #1:Why am I even doing this?
Is this all just a desperate dash for attention? This thought rolls through with each and every mention, are all these feelings and all these perceptions just a falsehood i've constructed to create tension?
Thought #2:Why is this my reality
My mother once told me that I was a gift, sent to her by the one above to help mend the family's rift. But every single passing day makes the color and the dreams fade away, bringing my sight into lonly shades of grey. I put on a mask the second I get out of bed, I put on a happy face, one that's not emotionally dead. I don't have time to care for me when all around it's plain to see that others are still hurting, they hurt and their pain gets to me.
Thought #3:Is this all for pity
Is it? Do I get on just to harp about my pain and make others feel sorry for me? That isn't my intention, I don't really know what is maybe it's comforting to put pent up pain into something with a rythm that people will read. But the last thing I need is for someone to look down upon me and give me their condolences, their pity. People say it gets better that "it's all just a phase" but i've waited for near 16 years and it's only gotten worse. Others would like to say that it's always darkest befor the day, well friend since i was born it's been too dark to see my hands. People tell me I need help but the last time I trusted someone they abused my trust and that broke me.
Well there it is, most all my thoughts set down.
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