- Books, Literature, and Writing
All of my problems are self created.
I hold on to memories for too long when all they do is slash at my mind until my sanity is dangerously low.
The ones that hurt the most are crystal clear.
Their edges are sharp as glass, tearing at the little bit of me that’s still slightly whole
until none of me is anymore.
The songs I play on repeat all remind me of something that shouldn’t be remembered.
Every time the count goes up my count goes down.
I can’t keep living like this.
Every night I feel more and more alone and I’m not sure how much longer this will last.
I don’t think I have the strength for it to last much longer.
All I know is that every day I keep pushing on in the hopes of something new coming around.
But nothing does.
I’m stuck in a rut.
My legs are like the wheels on a car when it gets stuck in a patch of snow that it can’t get out of.
I run and run and run.
They spin and spin and spin.
But there’s nothing that comes out of it.
I’ll forever be stuck just like those tires until someone comes along that will give me that push of hope.
That little push of help.
They’ll start me going again.
My journey will start moving again.
Until they abruptly leave me.
The season changes to spring and now there are mud puddles everywhere.
Just waiting for me to get stuck again.
Every time, unfailingly, I do.
I get stuck again so deep that I can’t move myself.
I need another’s help.
My dependency is as strong as rubber.
You can try to break through it, but it always just springs right back again.
I can’t get through this alone.
I must get through this alone.