Bloody Stumps

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My nail beds crack at the seams as they hold on for hope–merely clinging to life itself. Bloody good for nothing stumps they are, attached at my delicate wrists.

The faint painting of a light pink rose and galaxy hold my pulse in place, effortlessly. From my wrists blood flows up through my dark heart, placing pressure, anger, pressure, anger.

It’s moments like these I can’t understand why I’m alive. Is it merely for torture at the expense of an angry god? Is it to make me more stronger than I already am from my various trials and tribulations?

The rope is tight and ripping just right, underneath the palms of my feet–a tight rope. Standing still or stepping forward, standing still or stepping forward? Either way the other shoe is about to drop and I’ll be falling through oblivion. Elevate kindness, reap sorrow. Elevate kindness, reap destruction. Elevate kindness, reap rejection. Elevate kindness, reap isolation.

Put me in a padded room and I’ll tear through every white piece of fabric in that room. Put me in a straight jacket and I’ll rip myself out of one. Put me on an island and I’ll swim out to the sunset. Put me on a plane and I’ll be drunk and on some benzos. Put me on a mountain and I’ll contemplate how high and how long the jump. Put me in the middle of the ocean and you’ll feel how lonely I am.

Freestyle

For those of you who think you “understand” mental illness because you deal with it mildly and think that others can just handle it the same way that you can, you are sorely mistaken. Just because you didn’t have to go around the same mountain I did, doesn’t make you self righteous in your own estimation and accurate. To my family who should be the most supportive people in my life, you are the most hurtful and make me feel the most misunderstood and most unloved. For years I never had a relationship with you for these reasons, but since I moved back here in 2010 you have become my identity and a strong part of it. To my younger sister, it’s sad you let every excuse in the book come between us, that’s all on you. To my niece who thinks she knows more about mental illness than I do because her childhood was “rough” walk a mile in my shoes, and then let’s talk. To my other niece who blocked me, I have no words. To my Mother who berates me and causes me to lose confidence in finding love, i’ll have the last laugh when I get everything I’ve ever wanted and waited for. To my Dad who did nothing wrong, I love you.

I love all of you, even the most ignorant of you. Maybe that’s my downfall. It’s sad that when our elders pass onto this next life, none of us will be talking or in each others lives. You’ll have three of you and all your babies. But you wont have me. You think I push you away? YOU push me away. My post wasn’t even ABOUT YOU, but you all want to get butt hurt over it like it’s a personal vendetta I have against you all. Grow up.

And to my sister who’s internal clock is ticking, don’t just settle for the first guy who promises you everything just because you want to have children. Especially when he doesn’t respect something you used to treasure dearly, me.

A family divided. It’s so sad to me.

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