All my unpublished novels, unheard original songs, unread poems, and my infamous views of the world are most likely are going to die with me. Blogging instills the illusion that I already met fame. I tried to establish a writing career only to be jibbed off by Xlibris Publishing. They only care about money. I tried to introduce my lyrics to a music industry but they never have the time to see me. They don’t want to hear it. The poems are more for myself but I like to share them from time to time just to see if anyone replies. My love is becoming imaginary. After everything I have been through, apathy is taking its course. After my ex told me he never loved me to being with, my walls are built once more. I have so much love to give but no one can live for real in fantasy. My imagination will die with me. I don’t know when, I don’t know where, but it seems my efforts to proclaim my dreams are futile. Even people I happen to keep in my life are starting to get bummed out by me now. It’s not like I want to give up because if I did, I would end my life. The fact that I haven’t done that yet should show the inevitable hope I garner that my imagination will become real and my goals in life will be worth it after all the trials and tribulations have finally ceased, if they ever will. My barber gave me an eyecut along with the haircut. The brush my barber used to wipe extra hair from my face without warning cut my eyeball. I had to go to the emergency room and it tooks six hours to be seen. I have to apply eye ointment every four hours for the next five days. Not eye drops. Ointment. Hardest medication to apply to the body. I guarantee it. Before this happened, I got poison ivy recently when I participated in the church clean up last weekend. Is that what I get for helping the church? Then my sister-in-law asking me why I’m always suicidal. And I don’t like how she treats my brother but there’s nothing I can do about that. That all happened in one weeks time. It leaves me wondering what’s worse: my brother’s marriage or my chronic loneliness? I feel like everything I say will always be the tip of the iceberg. I had the same therapist for over two years. The only one that never gave up on me. She knows me more than anyone. Yet I don’t think I can ever express myself 100%. Maybe there’s a lot of things in life that just simply can’t be acknowledged verbally. A type of spiritual endeavor everyone faces. I need a spiritual guide or something. I’m so lost. I know I’m just bitching right now and I might sound like a teenage rebel, but believe it or not but this is helping me a lot right now. Im sitting in my apartment with all the lights off because my right eyeball is very sensitive to the light. My phone’s brightness as low as can be. My cat keeping me company. That unconditional love my feline friend and I share is the same way people should be but they’re not. Always building defenses and afraid to take the risk of letting anyone in. Anyway it’s like my emotional and psychological monstrosities are displaying themselves to my human vessel. A reflection of my depression as physical pain. I lost my mind years ago and it seems now all the other components that makes me who I am are starting to deteriorate as well. Who have I become? Job from the Bible? The darkness is taking over but my faith in God and my hope to save others like me by telling you all about me is good enough to keep on going. My imagination will die with me but hopefully my brave storytelling will help you on your own personal endeavors too. That is the grace God bestows upon me.
Have a wonderful day, my fallen angels! Over and out.
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