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Held Captive, I am A Prisoner-journal.

Author: LossOfHope03
ASL Info:    16/female/USA
Elite Ratio:    5.76 - 30 /29 /31
Words: 1048
Class/Type: Random Thoughts /Depressed
Total Views: 793
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 5202


Held Captive, I am A Prisoner-journal.

Held captive, I am a prisoner left to my own devices. And these may-be memories must be hurriedly scratched across these pages for I am nothing but a paranoid creadant under a microscope. Not looking up or back or anywhere but upon this very page, I can’t help but know that my time could be cut short by the slicing of time itself, and punctuality people call sleep. Sleep is something I would love to do without. It is nothing but a disturbance to me. I am a slave to words and even as I write these precious symbols upon this page I realize they are nothing but a mere excuse. No real idea has formed and yet I feel compelled to scartch upon the page, filling these very lines with nothing but garbage that no one will be interested in. Any reader would find this disappointing and trash-worthy. Held captive I am a prisoner left to my own devices. A prisoner to the promise of light. A light that I have not seen in months. And yet I wait for the impossible light nursing my darkness with music that has nothing but a dark soul and devilish screams. The lyrics oddly enough can be related to, through an impossible love that cannot be captured. From one victim to another I see that my affection is nothing a curse, a sickness to those around me. A sickness in which I envelope myself in and purposefully find no escape from. I do not care but yet I care so much, the pain is unending. I have become careless enough to let others view this unhappiness but without giving it a name. One embarrassing moment after another I become buried deeper and deeper within this feeling. This feeling of being alone but with so many around me. The optimism of this feeling to change has dissolved along with the illusion of the light. I find this unwanted pain extremely stupid and unnecessary which only leads me to believe that I have brought this upon myself. I now must leave it a burden upon my back to fix what I have so thoughtlessly broken. My life. And now that blackness is all that is left as I sit here and write I can’t help but feel like this would be the point in time where I would cry, if I still had that human emotion intact, but thankfully that has been taken away from me. Crying is a sense of weakness that must never be revealed.. I do not cry. I do not wish to cry. I do not wish to show people that my heart is bleeding. I do not cry and I will not cry. I am smart enough to know that one day I will break in the worst way in front of everyone. But then again I have surprised myself quite a few times with my abilities to contain my tears that no longer appear in my eyes. My eyes are like windows I refer to them as life windows because for most people they see the world clearly through them and the world’s seasons are like the person’s emotions. Rain would be crying. Show would be bawling. Sun would be happiness. And fog would be the act of holding back tears. I on the other hand do not have clear life windows. Everything is blurry and distorted. Even my ears have begun to play tricks on me. I no longer know what anyone actually means when they say things and people’s actions confuse me. My eyes or life windows don’t really show a certain season. When I look at them I don’t see sun or rain/snow or fog. I see a glassy surface that is not transparent but at the same time completely sheer. They look dead. They look empty. But they are brown and big. I guess I like them. They look lazy and tired but I guess that’s an accurate depiction of who I am so I can’t be too disappointed. The sun kissed skin around it looks plagued by darkness and shine from lack of care on my part and unwillingness to understand on everyone else’s part. I do not blame others though. It isn’t exactly easy to know how I feel and why. I tend to ignore it myself. Learning to capture those feelings into something constructive and understandable seems like it would take a lifetime to unravel but yet it seems like its raveled up in nothingness to protect myself from human emotion. Sometimes I feel, like physically feel like I might scream or cry, but before I could commit such a crime against myself I choke it down to prevent myself or anyone else to see that I am weak. That I am nothing. And will never be worth the time and frustration people may or may not put into understanding me. I feel very lost. Very lost in myself and the world. I no longer know where or how I belong. I feel too interested in hiding my feelings to let people get to know me, and I do so in fear of people hating me even thought I claim not to care but I guess if I really cared about that level of being I wouldn’t be writing this. But maybe I would be, I really don’t know I feel like I need some kind of help but I relish in my own pain. My pain feels so insignificant. I have no source in which I can trace it to. Its just a pain. A physical, mental, and emotional pain. A serious change is coming about. I think it will be small meaningless changes that will add up into one huge change that everyone will see. I’m not sure if people will like it or not. I wish I knew. Help. Help. Help.

Submitted on 2006-09-26 17:36:44     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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