Randon Thoughts of Melancholy

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I ripped a piece of my self out… I can never get it back. Why? I hate this feeling now. I can’t stop crying. What’s worse is that the one person who could pray for me is gone. It’s pathetic even that I can’t even dedicate all of my tears to her… Where they belong.
It’s as if I deserve to lament my sins. I guess I should wallow in the pain of my own creating. I tell myself it was meant to be to feel better. I tell everyone that I’m okay because it sounds better that way. I smile because believe it or not it’s easy. I believe the lie.
But the truth is…. I’m not okay.
Grievance & bereavement at the same time.
And worst part is that no one will really know why…
I wake up everyday wanting to feel irreplaceable but the truth is I look in my own eyes and know that anyone can take my place. I look at my child and try to be strong for her but the irony is everyday I feel like I failed her. Looking for some kind of peace & happiness. My joys are never permanent. I push away the people that truly care for temporary physical fixes that make me feel more emptier than ever. Not because I want to. Perhaps I am a masochist in every essence of the word. What’s a life worth living if we only want things we don’t need? Some look at me and say I should be grateful. Others look at me and think I’m asking for too much…
I can’t be happy because I sacrifice it to my own selfish delusions.
Go figure.

Only God can help me… Because I saved the judgment for myself…

Follow the Drunken Insomniac Writer on Twitter: @Nsomniac_Writer
Follow the Drunken Insomniac Writer on Instagram: @Insomniac_Writer

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