You want to make it hurt just a little more. Just a little until...until...it bleeds or it weeps or the sorrow is so great so great that the only alternative to the sorrow is this peaceful worn out feeling. This feeling means I have taken in my dosage of pain and taken it well taken it hard. And pushed and pulled it around until it cuts me. Deeply to my heart. And I bleed and I bleed emotionally for the losses of my life. There have been big ones. I can revist those with exact clarity sharp and clean. The little ones, those are little nicks. Then there are the new ones I create. The new ones that I allow to peneatrate my soul. I invite them. I wish for them because to replace the pain with anything else is not part of what gets me. Gets me to feel. If I cannot feel happiness then by god I might as well feel abject pain. Bleed me. Emotionally dry. I want it. I want the relief sweet relief of getting it out.
This is the last of the private places I can think of to be. This little website slice where the words can flow freely and I don't care if anyone listens but secretly I hope someone does.
I heard the term emotional cutter on Sex in the City. I hate that show but some how I feel compelled to watch it. The emotional cutter was Kerry. Yes she sort of matches me in some ways.
I am missing....
I am lost....without.
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3 comments:
some IS listening. I can't help in any way that will make a difference but I am all ears (or eyes since this is the written word). Don't ever think you are unheard ok.
oops make that ... someone
I am listening too... I don't know you and you don't know me but I have followed your blog and thought of you often - hoping for peace for your heart.
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