Blackness

Just how I feel

 

Blackness so dark and deep that there is no bottom.  Cold that touches the heart and spreads, taking hold of all that it can claim.  This bitter hatred you spew on me is not necessary. I despise life as is.  The exhausting day to day of smiling and helping everyone else.  Wishing.  Wanting.  Praying for someone to help me.  My tears do not run during the day.  They hide in my pillow in the darkness of night.  The shower washes them away in the morning. I am alone with them.  They do not resolve the pain but they do ease it.  If only for a moment. 

Sometimes the tears run until there are no tears left. They run until the pillow is soaked or the water is cold.  Then in the exhaustion that follows, the memories that haunt my night envelop me.  I can still feel the scalding touch of those who have hurt me.  The hurt that I hide each day.  The hurt that others will never hear me voice.  This hurt lingers after each breath. 

I wonder how many others out there with the smile on their face are hiding painful scars.  How many out there were raped.  Were abused.  Were used and left alone.  How many have tried to tell others only to be mocked or the details used as a sword in a later fight.  This is my burden to carry but the cross is growing heavy and my back is growing tired.  Sometimes I wonder whether it will be my body or my mind that gives out first.  Sometimes I wish my mind would forget the things that happened.  That those memories would be swallowed in a grave and never again unearthed.

It is sad to me how these experiences shape all that I do.  The way I parent. The fear I feel for my own daughter.  The way I cringe when I am touched.  The strength it takes when someone hugs me to not jerk away to free myself from confines.  It has shaped the way I hold others at arm’s length, scared to let them in, but saddened to keep them out. 

I love, but not fully.  I live, but not completely.  This blackness erodes away the happiness.