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Beautiful Disease
I want to preface this..... whatever it is. If I hadn't been crying already, stunned from witnessing someone else's raw pain, this couldn't have happened. This is my attempt to show someone, even if only one person, that they aren't alone, aren't the only one suffering in the world. You aren't a faceless person amidst the masses to me. If this helps anyone, at any time, it's more than worth my own pain in producing it. If it effects you and you feel some flicker of recognition, I'd like to help you if I can.
I'll tell you of a time, the time I lived in hell. Every day they'd come to dig, every day I let it all just slip further away, evertime I let my soul start to die inside.
Every time I longed to die, every day I pleaded for god to end the lie, all the tears I couldn't cry, all the pain that I kept for you, locked so deep inside.
All the times they cut me once more, digging for the next solution to this dying catastrophe, every attempt to fix the wreck, as this disease rages forth unchecked.
Every cough that bent me double, all the blood tinged sputum I had to force out, the endless days of being so numb only my soul could hurt, every piece of me that died, everytime they robbed me of something else. The months of time where the only place I could run, was in my dreams, but you never can outrun the pain, or truly stop that inner pain, come pouring down, like blood tinged rain.
Hurting so bad, you have to focus just to breathe, living just so, those around you, have some relief. The hours spent alone and crying, as a lost 14 year old, fearing you've been left alone, so forsaken among the needles and the tubes as the lifesupport inflates your lung again, thinking you've been abandoned as the doctors keep your parents away, the hours of drugged stupor, only relieved when they come to stick needles in you again, curling up tighter to hide, praying they won't see you this time as they push you further away, deeper inside.
The highlight of your days, being able to brush your own teeth or have them draw blood the first try, not the 3rd or 4th. Having to salvage the wreckage of yourself, finding out you're the owner on a body that's over its expiration date, and wondering when exactly, you lost that youthful health.
The days afterward you feel the need to scream, all the smiles you give them, so they can't tell on the inside, your soul, it bleeds. Lying to them all about how you are, it's so easy when you can read them like books. They want to believe what you say, it's easier every time, they never really wanna look, for some part of them, knows just what they might find.
The rage at the helplessness, depending on someone for nearly everything, at the stolen independance, at the precious teenage times, you'll never get to know. The shattered self image, daily self hate has now left you with, hiding just how afraid, you are of all of them, behind that cocky smile and that razored sarcasm, flashing blue eyes and the quiet silence, not letting them know, that their every glance might see what you were, or feel pity over your eternal shame, or maybe even laugh, at your fucking pathetic inner pain.
After all, grow the fuck up, be a man, it shouldn't bother you still, move on with your life, it doesn't matter that each time you've tried before, you had it taken once more, nevermind how much you fear, reaching out only to find, nothing you want or love was ever really near. You don't really set goals anymore, you learned how pointless that is, it's only one more hope, you give yourself for them to take away, only one more bit of the fading strength left, holding onto your sanity.
You're such a damaged piece of shit, that no one would ever want, you know of evidence to the contrary, but come on now, it's only you and me here, I know exactly how you feel and what exactly, you truly fear. You never really want to open up, afterall, most of your thoughts are stupid and your ideas not worth hearing, you don't contribute anything worth a damn why the fuck even try? Yes, you have friends that love you dearly, but it's cause you're a pity case, yeah, hold onto the thought it's because they see something worth liking, it gives me something to laugh about, what's that you say? you make their lives better, you contribute something, even if only in little ways.
Well, true, is that the real you? or an act, just some part you play? Yeah, you can work out a lot and make yourself stronger, maybe the muscle will hide how weak you really are? or hide that internal damage perhaps? the pain that's so raw you hide it from all of them. Yes, keep wondering and hoping that you will find someone who sees that terrified animal, cowering in the corner, that dark shadowed corner, trembling so hard it's bones are clacking in it's emaciated frame, as it darts it's head around, looking for some source of pain, the next violation to avoid.
Oh and don't forget, the black eyed demon stalking in the back of your mind, seething with rage, so cold and full of malice it even scars us, you have to admit, you've wanted to let him out of that cage, haven't you? Yes, you just keep hoping someone will see your inner trauma and still find that beauty your still delude yourself exists, that precious fragment you still cling to so tightly.
