journal

Perdition

The day was bad, but this night is worse. Where heart should be, there is nothing but a gaping hole, a yawning chasm, a vast emptiness that threatens to swallow me entirely. Yet, somehow, pain is still manages to exist within it. It gathers inside the space and tries to claw it’s way out of me in the form of a scream. If only I could slide inside this void and forget your existence, or better yet, forget mine own. Erase my face and forget my name, because what have I been besides horrible disappointment, an ache to people who all deserved better? It’s ironic, because I never wanted to hurt anybody. And in trying to hurt absolutely nobody, I end up hurting everybody. Typical, faintly amusing, and agonizingly twisted. And I was on the brink of tears when those words came at last, then I was shocked into a momentary numbness. No amount of tears will heal this. Just like no amount of words or actions could ever atone for my wrong. Even though I already knew it was coming, could sense an ending in my bones, I didn’t fully expect it. Why? Hope. Hope is such a bitch, such a harsh fucking mistress. Hope is worse than love, because it will clap you in chains of waiting, longing, wishing, and torment you with possibilities until the day you cease to be. I can feel it creeping back in now, even as I write, even though my mind knows the futility. Why not accept it, heart? Just fucking accept it. Man the fuck up and take the truth in stride. I say it, I think it, but I don’t feel it. It’s that void again, that painful, torturous void. The realization of what is lost, the knowledge that I am the only one to blame, the ache of love forever unrequited. But all of these things, they are no more than I deserve. Is this perdition? If so, I don’t know that I will live through it to tell the tale.

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