Blank Walls, Blank Pages

I see you there. I see you there breathing. I see you there being. I see you with my eyes closed shut and my room all dark. I see you not through sight but through every other sense. I see you passing by untouched. I see you being unmoved. I see you seeing me yet not acknowledging me at all. That’s the thing about the past it grips on to us and refuses to let go. I’ve been running in a loop for too long and I am impatiently waiting for the end of this to come. I am waiting for the day I no longer stare blankly at the wall reliving those treacherous memories. I know that day will come eventually but I need eventually to be right now because I can’t bear one more nightmare, one more false hope. I hope that the choices I am making in the now won’t haunt me like my earlier choices that elevated to mistakes that bruised my mind. I hope I don’t let myself down again. I hope I can gain back my lost strength to carry myself to my desk to open my journal to write down my prolonged voyage with pain. I wish I could get myself to read my false hopes but I know my destined reaction will be yet another breakdown. Even typing words into this keyboard has turned into a burden which hurts me. I hate how one mistake can make every fruitful thing seem so vain, so bland. In the end, we are our mistakes; without them our ambiguous odyssey wouldn't be so ambiguous for hurt only hurts because it is so unexpected. When my "eventually" arrives I will stitch my wounds together and watch them heal then rise to be the me I deserve to be.