Beyond Lonely
She sits there in her empty space, surrounded by those having a life or so they say. She continues to look back on things she wished she had changed, but knows that that is irrelevant now. She contemplates on various things. She looks as the person she loves drifts from her heart; her best affair likes to be around a lot of people and have many friends, and she chooses to be distant, and digs into her pit of sorrows and finds her best friend no longer even makes contact. She just writes it off to things changed, and other taught and well fed life stories.
She looks at a warm day and longs to be out in the nature, but as quick as the thought comes it goes and she falls back on the couch and buries herself into more depressing things. She feels as she cannot make herself happy, she cannot fulfill anyone else’s needs.. “I want to but I cannot, therefore I will not.”
She keeps herself busy with work without which she would cross the line to insanity. Then she sleeps until she just aches so much from the emptiness, and wasted muscle tone she crawls out of bed long enough to keep her sane. She finds herself arguing more and more with her best affair for absolutely nothing. She sits for hours looking at the wall, or the phone. Then she gets angry when someone does call, for she has nothing to say but lines laced with hurt and coated in sadness. She tries to relax with a cold drink and finds the interest short lived, and she pours it out. Being unhappy does not even begin to describe her total desolation with life.
She has discovered people on the Internet, they talk back and forth and some have even written letters. Her best affair of course finds a deeper meaning than that, which also deepens her pain. So she then lashes back at her best affair about who she is messing with, and how come she is never there when she needs her.
She has confessed to friends, taken countless advices, tried writing as a means of release but nothing seems to impede the advance of the deeper darkness. She feels so alone in a crowd as well. She just feels so out of place, she feels very ugly as well. She looks in the mirror and sees some wasted unfeeling creature that use to be nice and witty. She is in search of the self that once was, and until she finds her she is definitely awaiting the final cave in of her walled up heart, where the soul lays hidden crying out to deafened ears.
She is Me.
She looks at a warm day and longs to be out in the nature, but as quick as the thought comes it goes and she falls back on the couch and buries herself into more depressing things. She feels as she cannot make herself happy, she cannot fulfill anyone else’s needs.. “I want to but I cannot, therefore I will not.”
She keeps herself busy with work without which she would cross the line to insanity. Then she sleeps until she just aches so much from the emptiness, and wasted muscle tone she crawls out of bed long enough to keep her sane. She finds herself arguing more and more with her best affair for absolutely nothing. She sits for hours looking at the wall, or the phone. Then she gets angry when someone does call, for she has nothing to say but lines laced with hurt and coated in sadness. She tries to relax with a cold drink and finds the interest short lived, and she pours it out. Being unhappy does not even begin to describe her total desolation with life.
She has discovered people on the Internet, they talk back and forth and some have even written letters. Her best affair of course finds a deeper meaning than that, which also deepens her pain. So she then lashes back at her best affair about who she is messing with, and how come she is never there when she needs her.
She has confessed to friends, taken countless advices, tried writing as a means of release but nothing seems to impede the advance of the deeper darkness. She feels so alone in a crowd as well. She just feels so out of place, she feels very ugly as well. She looks in the mirror and sees some wasted unfeeling creature that use to be nice and witty. She is in search of the self that once was, and until she finds her she is definitely awaiting the final cave in of her walled up heart, where the soul lays hidden crying out to deafened ears.
She is Me.
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