Monday, April 18, 2016



You feel the drips at first, the little warnings of pain that makes you stop and wonder where is that coming from and what's to follow. The disappointment that something, something uninvited is about to arrive and screw up everything worse. Was it the stress that brought it back or just bad luck, there was simply too much of that. There was so much bad luck that it couldn't be just luck could it? Searching always searching for the genesis of the bad things, the illness announcing itself again, the lack of financial success, and the certaintity that a large measure of it was your parents fault.  It is never overcoming the obstacles because there is always a new one being built. God hates me, with that thought the pain arrives and all that it promises, nausea, violent vomiting and gasping for breath between convulsions, feeling the vomit burn your sinus's and pleading to Jesus that it will be different next time, let it be different next time. Thoughts pray for interrupting the suffering and overwhelming despair knowing at the same time you are simply alone. There is no sharing and no comfort when the pain has awoken the fear, the big fear that praying doesn't matter at all, that all your talking to is something that isn't there and the evidence of it's existence grows dimmer every day. Wanting to be like the people that believe everything will be all right. How is that done?  Do they not think, do they not examine, don't they feels this? Here it comes. Holding back air and replacing it with the burn. I don't want to burn. Is this what it's like? I don't want to burn, is this how it is, or is it just meaningless pain, is it a warning of more to come? Some of it must be my fault and I cant even tell anyone who'd even care. I am judged again. Unable to stop the pain, to stop it, it rises and tears the body with itself. There is no acceptance and no stopping the advance. This is dying and the wish for it. The experience of a punished life. This is knowing how frail the attachment to life is by being dragged to the hateful edge, retreating, and being mercilessly dragged back again. I look over the edge every time and want to be wrong.

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