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by Kai Rebel 6 months ago in Bad habits
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A foolish dream

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Fuck…just fuck.

If I could start all over, would I? This question. It’s just an aching hollowness inside me that won’t diminish.

An anger that wells up like fresh blood in a cut, bordering on spilling over into raw madness. I want to scream.

Right now, here, in this very second… I want to scream! Let my neighbors hear me, as if I’m being murdered. Scream at the top of my lungs while pulling at my hair, losing it completely until they bang on the door asking if I’m alright.

I’m not alright. Far from it.

This bitterness inside me makes my throat tight until I can barely breathe. My eyes sting and water. Isn’t it a pity that I’m not a fucking cry-baby?

To feel so much and be unable to cry is almost a sin.

I want to cry, my hands shake and my nose becomes stuffy, there’s so much to cry for, So much death and loss. So much taken away from me, why shouldn’t I cry over all that spilt milk?

Because I’m lactose intolerant. It has nothing to do with actual milk! But blood, and bodies. What the actual fuck am I even saying?

With all the losses accumulating.

I deserve a good long, hard cry… while staring at the calendar and letting myself dissolve into a snotty, blubbering mess! But I can’t, because nothing works the way it should. Not for me, not ever.

My luck is worse than broken mirrors and black cats. It’s like Murphy’s Law specifically exists for me. Why shouldn’t I just bawl my eyes out?

I pray a lot. More than I should probably. But...God seems to be ignoring me. I wonder sometimes, if when he hears my voice in his ears, coated in desperation.

The sound of me being, one half hearted prayer away from selling my soul to the devil, if he closes his ears or tunes into another human's broadcasting station. Because he knows... I'm insincere.

I know he isn’t, but it feels like that. The more I pray, the worse it all gets.

I imagine him looking down on my trash pile of a life and just laughing in the clouds. Maybe…even God’s a bit surprised at how unlucky I am, and how the hits keep on coming outside of his own plans.

But I realize outside of my imagination, I’m not even that important to God himself, billions of souls on this planet. I’m not even special to one human, why would I be special to him?

God loves you! Some idiot says with conviction that’s truthfully? Sickening.

Where does that certainty come from huh? All the good things he’s done for you? How he’s kept you?.

Where? Tell me so I can go get some of it for myself!

Just because, "God loves you" doesn’t mean you won’t suffer.

Rather…You suffer because he loves you.

How else will you be worthy of that love and that grace.

I’m a piece of trash! And I’m so unworthy. I grieve over the fact that I’m not a better person. That, I’m helpless in my base desires and worthless as a Human.

That’s why I can’t cry, because I don’t deserve that release.

If I’m being honest, I deserve to be beaten down until I break and bleed. Then I’ll have something to cry about.

It’s all unfair. This feeling of despair is drowning me. This feeling of being trapped in a box that shrinks in size with every move I make, overwhelms me.

I want to scream and cry but my mouth is glued shut, my eyes just do that useless stinging, itchy thing it does, instead of actually producing tears.

My chest gets tight and my throat closes, aching like I’ve been crying for hours already, those long drawn out sobs like when I was a child.

If I could truly start over would I?

Yes I would, if only to have a good cry that empties my soul of all this pain and guilt, to clear my mind of all this doubt and fear. To feel a lightness in my chest instead of this constant weight.

A foolish human, a foolish dream.

When I wake, maybe then the tears will come?

Bad habits

About the author

Kai Rebel

It Will Be...What It Must.

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