Skeptic

They say when you honestly want something, heaven and hell will combine forces with the rest of the energy and hope of the universe to get it for you. Why, then, am I so skeptical?

Is it because some innate feeling within me tells me that it's almost impossible to live that perfect life? Where all you do is struggle, and the only thought which keeps you going is that hope that life MAY get better, and that this MAY not be the end?

What if it is, though? What if there is no happy ending, and all that you've convinced yourself is coming, is just that, a hope which will shatter with all the pain that you never imagined you'd feel, and all that you'd ever hoped would come, the only belief, candle that kept you from giving up when all you felt like doing was curling under the bed covers and saying to yourself that this is enough, and there's no point.

I asked myself a question last time, something to the effect of, how will I look at tomorrow? It was an honest question, and one I realize the answer to now. I suppose at that time I was somewhere in the middle, I really didn't know what turmoil my heart, my soul was truly in.

Enlightenment - October 15th

`Tis not too long ago that a thought struck me a while back that had not before. I`m not sure if it`s just me, or it truly has happened. I suppose I should ask someone who knows me well, however, whomever I ask would most likely either not tell me the truth, or give me a very watered down version of the truth which I so desperately require. I seem to have just realized that I am to turn 23 years old, and I have yet to seem it. Perhaps the reason I feel like such a misfit is because I am, and despite how much that SHOULD bother me, it doesn`t. I don`t mind sometimes acting womanly, and smiling quietly, while doing what is asked of me without any facial expression, but who can accept that as a way of life?

Yes, I accept that growing up is an inevitable process, and as time passes, more is expected of me than ever before, but what is that compared to a happy life? One where, despite going against society, I`m still happy?

I suppose it would be to my credit to listen to my mother and remain reserved around guys, but I can`t be that way! I hate pretending that I don`t want to say hi to my friends, or that I don`t care about them, just because that attitude of mine would impress them!

What is the point of impressing these guys when, for all I know, God has planned my marriage to a gentleman who lives on the other side of the world, has never seen me before, and is taking our impending marriage on complete faith, just as I am? I hate feigning helplessness when it`s only going to make me miserable. What is the point of doing something that is going to make everyone happy, but me miserable? Sooner or later, those feelings will jump ship and land on my parents` shore. Making up the lies required to convince them that I am alright, and that nothing in life will pierce my armor will consume much more than just ignoring people will, and yet my nature rebels against the latter as well.

I pray for enlightenment, for the strength to get through these two years with the same nature I brought into medicine. It is not fair to have to change yourself to fit in. I won`t. I refuse. Accept me this way, or else change yourself. But leave me the hell alone.

Ostracized

I need to rant and rave. I need to let everything out, and be so rude, inconsiderate, and downright evil, that no one has any other option but to ostracize me. Oh, wait. I have already been ostracized, and so completely, that every moment that I spend here is now becoming a physical pain in my chest and head. For the first time in my life, my brain hurts from holding it all in. What have I done? The mistakes I made were mine to suffer with, but why am I being punished from a million different directions? My head feels heavy, tears threaten all the time, and I feel that there is no one I can open up to any longer. I am going to lose everyone I love, just as those before me who walked on this path did. What a wonderful way to live a life. You believe when you start that the more you give, the more you will receive, but it seems to be more like leeching. You keep giving, and they keep taking , and they have no qualms about what they`re doing. They believe it is their right. I am asked all the time why I give so much to one who gives me so little in return, but do they not see that the little I receive means so much since I get nothing from anywhere else. I am able to even fool those whom I thought could see through me despite locking myself behind a steel door. It is wonderful to know that there is no one whom I can turn to, no one who will share, or at least tell me how to shoulder it without killing myself inside. The funny thing is, I know deep inside that there may not be a way out. This is it. I have been told to turn to God, and He knows that I have. I apparently lack discipline, to keep at something even though I know it will fail on the beginning attempts. Tell me, how does one learn, or develop discipline? Is it something that comes with practice, or are you just born with it, and if you don`t have it then to hell with you, because you must be a screw-up, or be royally screwed yourself?!

Indeed, I am very passionate when I want to be, some sentences I think about when I am writing, but some of the writing is exceptionally spontaneous, which one would hope is a good thing. Not. All the thoughts come from spontaneity and an extreme amount of anger, which I no longer know how to control. I need my anger level to decrease, some semblance of reign on my out-of bounds existence.

Seems as though I am done. Good night. I have fooled everyone. Congratulations. Live free, now that you`re in an invisible cage. One that you built. Wonderful.

Loyalty

I was once told by a very close friend of mine that they followed this blog, very carefully. I was touched, though telling them was not on the agenda at that time. Nor is it now, come to think about it. I miss this friend of mine, tremendously. I`m sure they know who they are, and I do hope, with my normal reservations, that they message, contact, do something. I miss you very much, and I hope you can forgive me for putting you through the greatest trouble of having to deal with me. 

Anguish

Tonight is a night when words again want to be heard, when feelings resent being hidden. I suppose it is torturous of me to not give voice to that which screams to be heard, to be allowed to rear its head back and scream with anguish, hoping against hope that someone hears. In essence, it all is metaphorical, but does that decrease the pain, or make it any less? Pain, regardless of any other factor, remains the sole cause of every uncannily bad decision, and yet, despite knowing this, the world does not decrease the infliction of this wretched disease. Rather, there are some who unknowingly inflict, and others, which delight in knowing that they have the power to crush dreams, and break souls, with a few well placed words, chosen with delicacy and care. Funny, how those words can be applied to this situation, and yet, ruin is almost synonymous with care and tenderness, for without time and effort, any ruin brought about is hollow and meaningless.

Faded

You would think that after years of struggle, and fighting, and keeping all the bad way, that I would succeed, and not have to bow down to these people. At the end of the day, though, God always reminds you that the game has been, and will always be in His hand. Knowing that should comfort me then. It shouldn't make me nauseous, and annoyed. It shouldn't still allow this feeling to remain, as though everything is going wrong, and the only person right now who can fix it is me. It's impossible to explain this to people who are giving their all to talk some sense into me. I feel as though I want to claw myself out of this bubble I'm in, and grab hold of the first life saver that I can find. The life saver in this case is prayer, which is away from me. I feel like running so far away, that finding me becomes impossible, and a distant memory in the minds of those who perhaps may search. I will become a faded reminder of what once was. A shimmering glow on the horizon, as light fades into darkness, and once again, the soul is blinded, silent, resigned and fated to await the next morning, which may or may not come. The reality of the situation feels so removed, as though I again remain on the fringes , watching quietly, and waiting for the impending explosion to rip away another part of me. It baffles me to realize that I still haven't figured out how to deal with these demons, these past encounters that continue to haunt me, and color all that I know and love. My protection, my arms can only extend so far, after which I sit, used, abused, and incapable of saving those whose cries echo in my ears, and give me cause to contemplate that which is in the eyes of God a crime greater than any other. I pray for strength, understanding, and some semblance of peace. The turmoil raging inside my being could not be so silent as to not strike warning bells inside all those whom see me, and yet they seem to want to wait and watch my next step before moving to do something.

Silence, it seems is the best path. For how long is yet to be decided.