I
My hands are stained in black for the sin I committed...
A stain so thick, so impregnated it can't be removed...
I stare at my dirt hands
Thinking about the reasons things are
so messed up...
Now I can't reach out to anyone
I don't want to contaminate them with this
black stain.
I don't want them to know what I know
I don't want them to carry that burden
along with me
A burden which it was made for me to carry alone...
after all, it was my fault.
II
The pain...the tears...the screams...all silenced
Everything - myself included - is dragged into a
dark hole of despair...a dark hole in which a monster
lives...
A monster that shows me i
I feel disgusted.
I want to crawl out of my skin.
It hurts in ways I can't even put into words.
Flashbacks come flooding my mind.
Vivid images of things I want to forget.
I know I should feel pleasure in it
but...
I feel dirty inside...
The guilt comes back stronger than ever...
What is the perfect life? by hope-is-overrated, literature
Literature
What is the perfect life?
What is a perfect life? How this perfect life is supposed to be? How would you expect me to answer something like that?
Most people - the normal ones - would probably say a perfect life is when you have a nice job; a nice house of your own; to have all your dreams and plans coming true; someone you love and that loves you back, that someone you want to spend the rest of your life with; to have a family with a bunch of kids; having tons of friends; to have a good night sleep with only pleasant dreams; etc; etc...
But in my case is not that easy. This is the kind of answer I just can't give...I don't know...I just don't know this idea of how
All I want is...
To find someone who accepts me for who I am.
Someone who's not afraid of the darkness in me.
Someone who sees my true self.
Someone who doesn't judge me for my old scars and
doesn't condemn me for the new ones.
Someone who I won't have to wear a mask all the time.
Someone who I won't have to hide my true emotions.
Someone who understands my madness and doesn't run away
when the monster in me shows his face.
I'm done...I can't fake it anymore.
The truth is I don't connect to people...not anymore.
I feel like I don't belong to the human race...not anymore.
I don't belong to this world...not anymore.
I don't know what changed but ever since
All my relationships with humans were nothing more than just pretend.
I pretended to care about people for some time...
I pretended to be their friend...
But lies don't last forever.
I was fooling myself by thinking I could hide it.