I was told

I was told a story about something painful. As if death is anything but.

There are times when hearing about a person dying does nothing for me. I have watched gory videos and laughed over creepypasta post while drinking my herbal tea. I have sliced my wrist and burned sins into my skin in hopes that it would all go away. Honestly, death is nothing but a friend.

Yet, there are times when I find myself crying over it. I do not understand how my greater craving can be my nightmare. Death astounds me with its grace and yet, here I am suffering.

A loved one has passed away and I do not know what to do. I do not know how to feel….

I am just numb to it all.

But everything I write suggest otherwise. I cant concentrate on school cause I begin to think about him. I begin to miss a man I haven’t seen in years. A man broken by a war I wasn’t alive to witness. So much so little kids had to stay silent in his presence. I miss him and I do not know why. He was the kindest man but I can’t remember a damn thing he did. I barely remember his voice and yet I miss him.

I regret the fact that no one trusted me enough to love him.

Because I can’t say I love a person I wasn’t given a chance to know. I hate myself for never reaching out. But how could I when every sound I made took him right back to the battle field.

I miss him all the same.

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A friend like me

A/N for some odd reason this posted as a blank page. So lets see if we can try this again.

I wanted to hurt you
So I wouldn’t be alone
Wanted to make you hate
So I wouldn’t do it on my own
I ignored all the signs
That said you where near your end
In my rush to find a like minded friend
I destroyed what made you good
I just wanted someone beside me
Who would suffer as I did
I didn’t see it as a problem
I felt that, overtime, our pain would solve them
I didn’t see you gasp for help
Was to busy cutting you like everyone else
As you lay bleeding in my image
I felt that we could win this
What a terrible friend was I
To live you alone to die
I just wanter you to suffer
Wanted you like no other
But I never wanted to be alone

E is for Enough

I give up!

I fucking give up on everything.

Of course I am not enough. I didn’t get to say goodbye. You didn’t even give me a chance. You refuse to let me see you as you lay dying in your hospital bed.

You said I was like a granddaughter to you yet you wouldn’t see me at the end. Told the world that you cared. I am sure that is not what you meant. You were ashamed of me weren’t you?

You truly hated me! How could I have believed… You LIED to me. To my little girl. To her you were her world. She looked up to you.

I did too.

Now you are gone

What the fuck am I suppose to do??

Who will be proud of me now?

Who will tell me it is ok?

Who will sit there and just let me vent, every freaking day. Why did you leave?

You were suppose ro be around forever. You promise to see me do better…

But you left me…

You left me alone

And not even a week later he followed you too.

You were family.

I was suppose to make you both proud.

Just

I promise to better

Please come back home.

I will go to church every Sunday. I won’t question a thing. I will be a better mother. I will smile on command. I will get a job and go to school. I will do it all and more.

Just please please call me so I can walk out that door and see you.

Please let me make you proud.

I know you are gone now

I just handle it right now.

B is for Blush

I am not sure how old I was when I loat my first friend. I know I was fairly young and the idea of death wasn’t really big. I knew people died but it didn’t really mean much. Death was final and yet not final at the same time. This may have been because I went to my first funeral when I was around two years old.

I remember the casket clearly. Or as clear as a possible two year old can. It was white…maybe pink. So very very tiny. It held the body of a young girl who had died in her sleep. She seemed big to me though I have been told that the girl was around my age.

Her casket was tiny but she appeared so big.

I remember dancing and playing in the aisles as people cried. There was so much crying going on. I didn’t know this girl…it wasn’t until I was older that I realized I never would.

As I aged I went to a lot of funerals. Never again a child and nearly always males. The female line of my family tends to live forever it seems. I only have one grandfather who is still alive. I have lost many uncles and great uncles and great great uncles. And make cousins…yes…I have lost plenty of those as well.

But

That casket.

That tiny casket with the not so tiny girl. She has always stuck in my mind.

I am not sure if I was related to her. My mother doesn’t like to talk about her much since she was born the same year as my older sister. I think maybe even just hours apart and at the same hospital. I think it makes my mom feel guilty that her child lived while the other ladies child did not.

I am not sure though. I have only met the mother once. I remember the hungry look in her eyes every time she glanced at my sister.

As a kid I figred she was some creepy lady. As in adult I understand. I understand her looks and shaking hands as she patted my sisters face. I understand why she ignored me. I understand why her and my mother walked on egg shells when they spoke. I understand it all to well.

See while I have never lost a child I lost a friend at a very young age. I have lost siblings. I have seen friends cry after they spoke of the children they had lost.

I have seen blushing brides with a baby bump turn to tear stained widows with scars.

I have seen it all and more.

So, while I have never lost a child, I can still grieve with them. I can hold them close and understand. Maybe not fully but enough to be there when needed

Say it with me

I like the words low self-esteem. That makes it seem like there is hope. That one day it can come back.

Now zero self-esteem, that is a different story. That means there is no chance of it coming back without some outside help.

But how can we go about life lacking it and expect others to help us. We are always being told that if we do not love ourselves then no one else will love us. So what if a person hates themselves with a passion, does that mean that they will always be alone?

I like to think that there is a chance they can be happy. It will just take someone from the outside to help them see the light.

She used to be hopeful

She used to try

She used to smile

Once upon a time

A bright future a head of her

But her head in the clouds

She used to be normal

Then she was found

In a backend ally

With her knees on the ground

Surrounded by people

But lost in the sound

She used to be everything

She used to be love

Now she is nothing

Someone we all judge

Needle in her arm

And hate in her heart

How did this happen

What tore her world apart?

She used to be helpful

She used to be wise

She used to be everything

In her loved ones eyes

But now she is found

Laying in the ground

Surrounded by people

But lost in the sound

Of her own imagination

Of her own mistakes

She used to full of life

And now she slowly breaks

Needle in her arms

Blood on her legs

Crawling on the ground

To get away from the people

That roughly surround

She wants to be lost

Stuck in her own sound

As long as you will have me

I figured this would happen but still I had hoped

I had prayed with all my soul that this will be ok

But yet again my prayers end in vain

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I have never felt this pain though I know of many who have. Today we sit in remembrance of those who have lost a small part of them. A child was taken without reason.

We bow our heads to the ground then lift them on high. We allow ourselves to cry for little ones we never got to meet, taken from us way to soon.

No parent should ever be forced to outlive their child. This is not the plan. We are supposed to be long dead before they join us.

See I have never felt such a pain. I have never had a miscarriage but I know many who have. I have never had a stillbirth, but I know many who have. And for those many that I know I cry for them.

I say to them that I am sorry for their loss. That I am there for them whenever they need me. I will not tell them that it was Gods plan. I will not tell them how they should be happy that they can even have kids. I will not lie tell them this sick twisted words.

Instead I will hold them close and tell them I love them.

Instead I will do my best to love them, to show them I love them, and help them the best I can as they heal.

For this is a pain that never goes away. It lingers near even when things seem ok. I will be there for them as long as they have me.

To all those who have lost a little one. Know that you are loved. Know that it isn’t your fault no matter the means. That you are cared for. Know that no one will ever forget the person who isn’t with us today. That we are with you. Know that no matter what I am with you.

A random status update

I have never been good at dealing with the death of a loved one. I have often found myself to be the only person openly crying at funerals. As everyone is floating around and celebrating, I was always the one calming talking to the body as though they could still hear me. The one everyone felt that needed to baby due to my delicate nature. 

It is funny though cause I actually celebrate death. I do not pretend to be happy with a passing. Instead I let myself feel sad. I do not hade behind perfect smile and tell everyone thanks for coming. No I kneel and allow the person I have lost know I love and will always remember them. I celebrate death once I have grieved.

Not to say smiles or laughter at a funeral should not happen cause they should. I just don’t do it. 

I am not very religious, but despite how some of my poems may seem, I love religion of all kinds. Including Christianity.  I may not follow all the teachings but I do not find it horrible. 

So I can understand how something that is something  we need to sing about. 

I am just quieter…..

Still….

I wish people would stop seeing my tears as a weakness. I wish they would talk to me. Let me tell them that sure I am crying, but I will be on in time. 

Why do people hide death from me? Treat like a little flower who needs to be protected? Has anyone read my poems and stories??? Seriously, I will be ok. Just give me time. Let me vent, let me grieve in my own way.