You can’t see the tears in my eyes. No one can. They never fall in sight. Only at night. Only in the darkness do they course down my face. Like a race. I don’t notice. Rain drops frozen upon my cheeks. Glitter like cold diamonds. Drops of pain glide softly upon my cheek.
I’m broken in so many ways. Marked like the faceless thing he called me. I am gone, but a shadow remains. She wants to live! She wants to feel again. She wants to be free. She wants to be loved and kept safe.
You can’t hear my silent screams. No one can. They are never spoken aloud. Only in my head. Only in the silence do they cry out. Like cries of the wind do they sing. Like a storm. ~J
I hardly cry anymore. I couldn’t say why though the distance the PTSD gives me from most of my feelings probably doesn’t help. Since my failure in Knoxville and the Trial I don’t focus on how I feel much. Just seems like a waste of time. These feelings don’t pay my awful bills, train the dogs or enable me to do my job. They tend to bring me down, make me unable to enjoy the things I do like is this messed up world, drive my friends and family away, make me hate myself all the more for being weak. I still strive to live, to breath in life and all of it’s forms. To make everyday as meaningful as possible. But I don’t spend much time anymore with the deluded wishes that people can love me if I let them see my broken state. That being safe is a possibility (rather laughable when one thinks about it) and certainly no one else can do it for me. To wish for others to help me up when I’m down every time or be the ‘one’ who makes me safe is irrational and pointless. To work on my “issues” to put it lightly..is a LONG process and I have had to make peace with the minute baby steps that I do get.
I hope people don’t just see the darkness in my words, but the amount of energy I put forth in living when I often feel such pain as I sometimes write about.
Good Medicine ~ J
Life of Journey 