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By twisted_lie Date: 2012 Dec 13 Comment on this Work [[2012.12.13.04.00.4218]] |
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They say writing is some form of therapy, but for me it is a curse. It is a constant reminder of feelings I wish to forget, why did I read the old notes I wrote? Human beings are fragile, they are porn to heartaches; I was advised, they did warn me, but my pride kept me going down that road. I wanted to discover, to prove them wrong. But I was wrong. They say it is always better to lead than to follow, but in this case I led myself into a land of disaster. A pot of gold was not found at the end of this rainbow and all the fairytales ever told were nonexistent, heroes did not rise and the sun did not prevail. I miss those beautiful tingly feelings, the excitement, the happiness, and the butterflies all over my body, I miss the time when I used to care, I used to love and used to sincerely give. I am all out and all shutdown at the same time. They should start telling the story as it is, without sugar coating it, I can handle the truth, but I cannot stand being covered with fairy dust only to find out it is mud. No matter how great your support system is, you are faced with the only truth : you are always alone. |