There is no smell after the rain anymore, or if there is I can’t tell.
Every taste is the same. Foods I once despised with a passion, I am now indifferent about, and flavors that I used to love are now bland and tasteless
Colors do not show in my eyes anymore. Even in the fresh glow of the moonlight, they all show as white and gray.
Powerful lyrics to songs hit me and vanish. Never do the go past the surface.
People I once loved, who were my world now mean nothing and those who would only normally get one glance are those who are dearest.
The cut of a knife or sting of heartbreak only feel like small bruises.
For my pain is now joy and famine is now filling.
I want to hurt, for it is the only way to get used to all the other pains. When you are constantly weak then you can’t fall any further.
I give my soul to God every night and days, weeks, months, and years go by with still no assurance that He still holds it.
I feel or do not feel as a failure. Many speak of my talents, beauty, and love, but only one voice can I hear. Only one man has gotten deep and dug, deeper, and deeper with words that tell me, I am nothing. And I’ll go nowhere, unless I am perfect.
And if I can’t be perfect then I may as well not be at all.
The man knows not of my burden or the daggers that are always cutting me as he speaks.
I thought I would hear God, “You are beautiful, you are mine, I love you and will love you, with no boundaries.” But I didn’t.
Tears don’t come anymore; when they do they are like acid, carving me with every drop. Reminding me of every failure and that even my tears do not bring tears to his eyes.
Though I weep in darkness, though I scream in silence; I do grow weary and I do faint.
Is it worth it? To lose one and gain many? I love him no matter how much pain he brings, I must love him. For love is the closest thing to perfection that I can ever give.
When I want to sleep, forget, get away, it haunts my dreams. Never have I had a dream without death; if not me then them. So many times before, I have woken from another nightmare, afraid, hurt, worried, depressed.
Why? Why must they all die? Can I have nothing?
My voice is not good enough anymore, my heart cannot give anymore love. For the burdens and hate that is carries is too much to share with love.
I wish to share my heart, but I am afraid that there will be none left to love myself. There isn’t.
I am not afraid of the dark anymore. For the worst that can happen in the dark is being alone and I am used to this.
The second worst is death, but in my life I feel that may hurt less than the death that I encounter every day.