Dear Journal- I miss Me.

Angeles Mizilla By Angeles Mizilla, 26th May 2013 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/1kq22h3f/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Diaries

Losing ones self in grief after a lost love.
It's a hell of a journey that savages the soul, lost love.
It's an interesting excerpt I found here, journaled years ago.
I've come a long way since then, or have I? ;)

Into the Darkness I Stare

Or maybe out of it?

I know there is a light somewhere, but I am numb to the feeling of it on my skin.
If it were t touch me, I'm afraid I wouldn't even burn.

One would think that as a blessing, but it isn't . It's a pain. An endless ache inside. The one ache I cannot make go away.

The best friend

I've had in years has grown angry with me, for reasons I am unaware of. She wont even speak to me enough to share with me my mis-comings.

In a way I am angry with her too, for not giving me the benefit of the doubt. I want to shout at her for being so selfish to let me live in such a darkness and not know the reason for it.

In another light,

I pray for the darkness to encompass me. Eternally.

Never to have to look upon the chance of failure or loss again. I can't bare even to search out the light. My eyes simply could not stand the blinding heat of it.

I look into the mirror. On the outside, I see something pretty. I can even flash a bright and genuine smile. None, even me if I didn't know the thoughts inside would imagine the farce.

I remember this kind of feeling. Years past. Something I thought I would never have to feel again.

It is true a person can die of a broken heart. But I am not a person so the broken heart, while still in peril continues its rhythm, strong some days, weak others... But still it beats.

I used to believe in miracles,

I used to believe in things like, the cosmos, God, fate, destiny, the fact that everything happens for a reason, it's all a part of a plan...

But a while back I believed in something so entirely that it took over my soul.

Believed with everything I have ever been or would ever hope to be

and now I'm left alone. No true friends. Because I have pushed them all away or somehow made them push from me.

I have a choice to make...

Do I change my beliefs and stop believing in fate, destiny, the cosmos? Do I face that I could have been wrong? Do I face that I could have been using those as an excuse? Or do I accept that the entirety of my being, my gut, my entire sense of self... my entire lifelong ability to follow my own intuition, when something so right could have been so wrong and I knew still it was right..
Do I stop believing in fate, destiny, the cosmos and the like, or do I stop believing in my own gut? My own heart? My own soul? The entirety of my existence?

I hear my heart

Pounding; racing.

I am trying to run to catch up with my own breath, but it's absent. Still, I continue on alone. A dark and winding path.

I miss the depth of my smile when I could feel it inside.

I miss the flowers and the feel of the sun on my skin most of all, I miss my ability to know what is right and what is wrong.

I miss my will to be.

Vitality.

I used to be a great electrician to myself.

Now that electrician has grown old. Senile. Or maybe she s dead
Like all the other parts of me are becoming.

I wake up sometimes

having written thoughts I never realized I have. I woke up at a time having done something I never thought I would do. Blackouts. Darkness. Lonely Dark beaten roads. Shattered remnants of old cobblestone bricks. I search for new ones. Old ones. Still useable.
and the mortar wont mix. The bricks crumble in my grip and I fall often to my knees and weep. Tearless painful waves of terror and I know one thing when I come back into reality.

I MISS ME.

Tags

Brokenhearted, Depression, Jaded, Lonely, Lostlove, Suicidal, Wounded

Meet the author

author avatar Angeles Mizilla
I am a single 34 year old woman. I work as a Case Aide with a Children Services agency in Ohio. I love photography, animals, reading, music, food and family. I primarily write from life experience.

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