Expectations

The gun of society at my throat, suffocating me until I give in. Caving caving, until my legs give out and i fall into the dark, black abyss of nothingness below.

criticism will always keep you motivated, your flaws will be filling in the cracks of your thinking during your free time. your head will always be dark because there is no circuit to keep the light bulb on, there is no one to catch you if you fall or stumble.

the knife of judgement at my wrist. you expect me to cut but i know that not all judgement is bad. not all comments are supposed to make you cry. but they do. stinging like rattle snake venom, burning my skin to a crisp. and slowly flaking away into dark dull grey flat sky above. so the knife goes across my wrist, my tears of pain and misery spill down my arm and down to my hand and then finally to my fingertips where my wine colored tears hit the floor with a      peak, peak  sound is as soft as the rain dripping, dropping, outside.

i'm alone, but that's not a surprise. like i said before, you need someone to tell you you're cutting too deep. but i'm alone, no one is here to save me from myself. save me from the crude comments and poking and prodding eyes that look at me with pity and disgust. their eyes are daggers, ripping through my mind, soul and heart creating a hole as deep and black as space itself.

my pain. anyone's pain, is never ending. a never ending cycle of happiness and pain, that keeps rotating for eternity. the only difference is how long each cycle lasts, my cycle is probably a very long period of sadness and only a couple quick, savory seconds of happiness. and that works for me, but some people think different. but i don't care as long as i can be happy for a couple seconds in my long, boring, monotonous life.

i deserve to be happy, don't I? or am i the cursed child of omelas that is destined to be alone and wallow in misery for eternity? am i destined to sit in the threatning and demented dark and take everyone's pain away while the rest of the world gets to relish in beautiful sunlight and chirping birds? why am i alone? am i doing something wrong? why can't i live in omelas? why can't i be happy?

so many questions that roam around in the dark, lonely, space in my head, roaming without consent or direction. and the prying questions will never be answered, because by the time people care, it will be too late. too late to answer the questions, too late to save me. i will never be able to fly, run , walk or crawl. the only thing i can do is sit here and let death approach me quietly and painfully slow, wrapping it's bone like fingers around my withered throat and scrape, rip and tear my lifeless, ghost like, body apart like a child having temper tantrum and ripping it's play doll in a million little pieces.

every important movie starts with a black screen. so why did mine start with the burning blistering flames of hell? burning, slowly engulfing everything in my monotonous life. and whenever my eyelids grow weary from being pushed and punished, i close my bleak, bland, blind eyes and i see a pair of blue eyes. but the more i look at the eyes, the blue eyes i see more and more of what i am. empty, empty and alone. but, the blue eyes look at me with their cold color, sharp and steady as glacier ice yet jumpy and flickering in the fiery, ferocious light behind them. and they watch me, piercing whats left of my heart and shattering it like a mirror. and the pieces slowly fall into the black abyss of my soul.

every important movie ends with a black screen. that's how I ended, blank. It was peaceful yet painful in a joyous kind of way, dying silently so that no one will ever know I left.

Although it is too late for me, to late to save my broken down and isolated soul, and although the blue eyes will leave me eventually, making me feel guilty about the crimes I made against myself and my family, it is never too late for the living. It is never too late to decide to get out of bed, every morning, and make someone sigh out of relief internally because your alive. It is never too late to put down the razors.
It is never too late to put back the rope.
It is never too late admit something's wrong.
It is never too late to talk.
It is never too late to ask for help.

While I may have failed in making someone happy and relieved, you can learn from my mistakes and misunderstandings and be different. The sorrow you hold in your soul may never disappear, but it will only shrink. It will Shrink until you find that you are truly happy and that you have truly found your purpose.

Everyone has a purpose, everyone can be happy, no matter your situation in life.

And as the flower petals of death rain down upon me I know that it is my time to leave you. It is my time to say goodbye. But do not mourn my life, this was a decision I made with a sober and clean mind. So do not worry about me. Do not think I am ill, do not think I am sad anymore. When I go I will be released
From my scorching pain that has burned me deeply for years. I will finally get what I have been craving for, freedom.

I will be okay, but I must admit that I am weak. I could've been stronger, been stronger to say something, to tell you what was going on. Whom ever may read this make sure you are strong. Be something I couldn't. Because I know for a fact that someone on this planet loves you, and if you have absolutely no one to love or be loved by, then I love you.

So I leave you with this,
The sun may still rise,
the stars may still shine,
But you will be missed.
No matter what.
And in order to see the light side of things, you must always go through the dark first.