Its the curse of the sun and the moon.
How they play around with our hearts.
How very cruel.
The sun leaves and the moon, between clouds, shines through.
The sun leaves knowing heavy hearts will pour into the night with no ghost, no lover, no one to hold.
The moon and its arrogance, thinking its light will suffice.
The sun rays are barely a distraction enough, imagine the moon!
Wanted to start with something before I start typing down words I regret.
Don’t mind regret.
I’ve said this a lot but I don’t express and I don’t talk. It’s a phobia. Everything I’ll say now won’t make sense and it doesn’t matter.
I don’t open up the gates of my rib cage not fear of rejection or pity. It’s not from fear at all. It’s of pain and the fact that as soon as you trust enough to crack open the gates, you’d automatically shift your weight to them and its not for them to carry.
There was a period of time where I was insomniac, I didn’t sleep for days fearing that if I close my eyes for a fraction of a second I’ll relive the 15 years I’ve been trying to reject. I can’t explain the pain I endured from those nights. They’re the most terrifying and most draining. The thought of it keeps me trembling. Everything hurts at night. Talking hurts, thinking hurts, smiling gets too painful to do. I smile for them to leave me alone because no matter what, 15 years cannot be erased. Not with alcohol, not with drugs, not with therapy or sweet words. Believe me, I’ve tried them all.
I got through it. Barely.
Once I was drunk and nothing was right, the moon was too dim that day. I remember vaguely what happened. It’s probably the only thing I regret. Speaking to someone about the weight of my heart. I remember I told two of my friends things I haven’t told much people about. Things no one should know. Pain even if told or explained, can never be fully understood. The biggest regret I say because they should not carry my heart. Its too heavy for them and I don’t share my heart. Its an organ full of weed and forks and dangerous things.
It’s frustrating knowing they walk around under the moon with my words floating in their mind. God knows where else they carry my weight.
It happened again shortly after, insomnia.
Another survival though the thought of being alive has never been appetizing.