LilyRoseburn

Ehhh, here goes another one.

     A switch, yeah, a switch. It flicks on and off when I need it too, but sometimes it hurts me. My release, my absolute time when I don't feel anything bad, is in the shower. As the steam fills the bathroom and the hot beating water pours down my back, my body begins to relax. I can't cry. I know why, but I wish I didn't. The break was too long for me. Too much lying and sneaking, I wasn't expecting it. A throbbing sensation trails throughout my head, the temperate in my body drops. A contradiction, hot head, cold everywhere else. The sides of my arms begin to become half hot, half cold. I swallow as my throat gets tighter, but as soon as I think of crying, my brain stops and everything is black. Nothing in my head, all blank.

I don't understand this. The weight that I feel on a chain connected to my ankle, doesn't seem to come off. I don't understand this nothing. How can I not feel motivated? I know, I am scared of death. The spiraling pain throughout your body, all the nerves kicking in to tell you, you are in PAIN. The moment when you take your last breath and your memories of your friends and few family members that you accepted. The sensation of extreme warmth or frost bite cold or the bad sensation of in the middle, leaving you with chills. When you have no actual idea, if any religious ideas are real. The idea, the thought of this makes sweat begin to drip down my forehead and my teeth clench. Even though, I am scared of that, I know that is not the answer? I still don't understand.

I see him. He lied, he snuck. That is what I care about, what he watched is an opinion based. I feel that is doesn't matter but they say otherwise. They don't make it equal. My body clenches and shakes in anger. I feel heat spread around my cheeks, the motivation to help and argue comes back. Yet because of my personality, I don't speak up. I let sorrow and anger enclose me. Until I explode, until I cry and moisture to cry is all gone. I will let my heart squeeze and break, but when someone I care about gets hurt, I don't even let a word be able to break them any further. I wouldn't even let someone reach to hurt them. My adrenaline kicks in and I snatch their arm, twisting it and my whole body is ready to beat the living crap out of them. Yet I can't do that for myself. Not only that, but I beat myself up.

I just don't understand. I tried to make myself be happy and explore myself. I tried to fulfill my need. I tried to use a razor, but it just made me mad so I pricked myself with a push pin. I was so mad, I couldn't hurt myself. I couldn't cry. All I could do is feel tired. Is let my appetite vanish. Let me eat any amount, but feel sick afterwards. All I do is go down. "Once you hit rock bottom, the only way is up!" Right? When will I hit rock bottom? I try to have fun, but it only lasts for the moment. I feel pressure and wanting to meet not only mine, but others expectations. He says that he understands and he will give me space, but I just don't understand. We switched, he was stuck in it, but now he's in my poppy feel good stage. I'm glad that we switched, he deserves it. He has been in this stage before, and one more time is too many.

This feels like a rant, but I just don't know anymore. I was angry, because ideas of mine were showing and I don't like it. Yet now, I feel like a empty black box. Not space, because that is endless with amazing planets and new findings. A empty black box is simple. It's black, and empty. A box, because I'm closed off yet I feel nothing. I'm tired I want to sleep, but waking up is tiring too. I want to do something but I find nothing in my interest. School and human interacts are sucking my oxygen away. The only emotion that I can conjure up is anger. So let myself be angry? Oh no. I don't want to explode. Now I know why. I'm guarding. Shit. I'm guarding and I am doing everything. I'm disconnecting. Now, I must know what to do. Thank you. Maybe it's best that I did this. Thank you. I'm going to see how far I can go. ❤

I'm sorry Rose. I just keep letting you get hurt. You were born in a bad weather condition, it passed and the sun beams shined down on you. Yet then after you loved the bees they took much from you, hurting you. I helped you make thorns that would protect you, but then it just got worse, so I had to get help, even though it would hurt you. So I waved others over and they came. They moved you, but the soil was bad. So they moved you again, but even though the soil was good, you had to go under some bad weather and scary cats attempting to hit you. Yet you were watered and the sun shined nicely on you. Sometimes you would have your stems lean down while thinking of the bee that took from you before. Every time you see the bee or think of it you want to be pulled out of your roots again to leave it.

After, everything was pure and rich. You are getting hurt again though. When you were having to put your thorns up, it was still guarding you from the others, it was still slightly guarding you. Now though, I have made a mistake of cutting those thorns off, because the bad weather is coming back and other bees may be attempting to hurt you. Putting those thorns back up will come with a price. You will be guarded but your happiness will be gone. The attempting bees are wanting you to stop having the cool wind breezing on you. Yet they suggested the cool wind, the rich soil, the crystal pure water, the soft hands brushing your petals. The two pair of hands would purr at you and cup you, sending a trail of warmth beginning to brew in you. A nice sensation. One pair of hands and the rich soil are turning into the attempting bees. The other pair of hands are slightly on the edge and the water felt hurt, but not anymore.

Every next move you make that connects with the cool, calm breeze makes the one pair of hands turn again. It pinches your petals and you don't do anything back. No. I am not doing anything back. You are hurting so I should be putting up the thorns, but if I do that then you won't have the pure beautiful water, the rich natural soil, the rough pair of hands that treated you gently and the soft caring pair of hands that treated you with warmth and guidance.

I want to cry and feel the pain, yet I can't cry and I can't feel the pain. Risks. Pain. Anger. Confusion. Heat bubbling under the surface. I'm sorry. The soil has been going from hard to soft, the water has angered the pair of hands and soil, the cool breeze has gotten stressed and mad from it's extra work on the side, one pair of hands has been feeling stressed and is on the edge about you while the other one is the warm and caring one, getting in your flow. So watch out if you sway to the breeze! It is wrong though. Right? Aren't you able to at least sway with the breeze? No? I am sorry. I am your protector. I am suppose to be in control of you. Yet I am you. I am failing. I'm sorry. Rose, I wish I could make better decisions. I love you yet I get mad at you and I intentionally hurt you. You have been stressed out about the things you have been needing to do with everyone, yet one pair of the hands is pinching and now slightly twisting.

It grabs you, sneering and I have been sitting back not talking it to stop. You aren't suppose to be brave. I am. I'm sorry. Little precious, fragile Rose. You will and shall, be forever in my heart, in my soul. O Rose. Hurting Rose. I love you. 💜

      My heart has been passing, notes that will not burn. I yearn for more but all I see is the sky falling right at my eyes. What should I do when I know time is running out, everyone soon will be gone and I will be in a space full of spiders and demons that I know are hiding... waiting for their time to pounce. My mind tells me about stories of thorns, creatures ripping apart flesh but I don't feel anything. I am numb. Constant...pattern. I will be numb, I will fall and then I will not feel anything anymore. My hand reaches out in the vast ocean, I am drowning and I see the light, above the water the light shines. How can I reach the light if I don't know how to swim. Everyone is gone. I am all alone. If any shall come close to me, my body will pierce them. Stabbing them with blades and choking them. All I know, is that everything will work out as they say, my hope is not fully gone. So I will live with this unknown and see if there is really any demons waiting to pounce, or if spiders will crawl on my skin to annoy and freak me out. I will find out if I will be chained by fear or if I will be supported by The Hand of His. My heart will soar, if I shall not follow the path of my own parents. If I shall follow the path of my parents, destruction, death, misery, torture, non-satisfaction and no love shall constantly rein in my life by that chosen path. The only thing I know, is that I must live on.