The ramblings produced by some late-night reminiscence

Like a puppet with ripped strings I hang limp from a tree that is rooted in bad seeds. I have no direction and no recollection of anything but the present. Everything else is blocked out and I always want to shout. I want to scream bloody murder from my gaping mouth. Maybe I’m dramatic but all my life I’ve been plagued with diseases that are psychosomatic. I often feel like I am no longer young and fresh but a real mess and that I still have nowhere to wear my party dress. Sometimes I still feel like that little girl who never broke out of her shell. I’m trying to find my purpose but it’s hard when I never feel like I’m worth it since I can barely keep my head above my mind’s murky surface.

 

Not to project my self-hate I just cant believe it won’t abate and I don’t know what else to change. I feel like I’m trying but really I’m just dying because my feelings weigh down my soul and keep it from flying. I blame everyone else and I’d be lying if I said I never thought about killing myself but then I would go to hell. There are those Christian values. Those morals bestowed on me before I was even a preteen and I was forced to go to triweekly meetings without being allowed to do my own thinking. I remember the day my dad came home from church and when he got angry again he almost smirked because he told me the pastor said its okay to beat your kids. Only with a wooden spoon and if they disobeyed you of course, I wonder if he ever felt remorse.

 

I always wanted to have a good story. My biggest worry was being boring. Abuse and drugs don’t make for the best conversation pieces so I try to keep it all a secret. But this isn’t all of me. Even though the ghost of hell’s past drops into my mind like a bomb of tear gas and I gasp, I hold on for those days when my brain is clear and I lose my fear. Those are the days I cherish. Those few and far between stars are enough to mend my scars and remind me that when I fall off the wagon I go far. But if I’m back in that murky place I’ll have a change of pace. I’ll find some seeds to replant the tree, I’ll come back to life and hope will spring.

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