Depressing Thoughts

I can't let go because I don't know what's coming. Things could get better or worse. Curiosity keeps me alive but the pain is hard to bear. I am robbed of my energy and strength. Accepting my decisions feels impossible. Is this my future? There is a sparkling beauty in my eyes from the tears I hold back. How can people be so cruel? Living in a largely populated world, yet the feeling of isolation remains. My heartbeats rapidly with little effort. The shame of being unaccomplished and the fear of being judged; makes me want to run and hide. I question myself. Is my soul pure? Are my sacrifices in vain? As our frozen pond cracks and they fall through drowning; so does my heart freeze like ice and drown in heaviness.

I think of how many others suffer the same; yet I complain. Am I too weak for my trivial problems? Am I unappreciative to the life I've been given? I prefer to retreat rather than give up. My meditation turns to depression. My thoughts are scattered. Waiting for that moment of clarification. Endlessly seeking nirvana. Searching for happiness is like chasing the wind. I smile and wait for my joy to be snatched away. I weep for a moment in the corner. When I return they see an angel of light. I fluctuate between optimism and pessimism. Daily affirmations leave me empty. Nevertheless, I proceed. “I am beautiful; I am loved; I am worthy. My opportunities are limitless. My efforts are great.” When will power ignite my words? How long until I believe.

Witnessing my destruction from a fish eye; while covering my sorrows from the world. Somehow I feel they can see. Exposed to the skeleton, hanging my head low. Hoping to cover insecurities, I keep the strong face of an indian chief. If I was blind I would not feel so incongruous. Am I lucky to have vision? Reality seems to be an illusion. I give with my soul, in hopes to receive love. When I am left empty, there is no one to fulfill me. I pour the cup and carry the unwanted vessel. They empty their trash in me. I take up their burdens with a broken back. I gave the poor man all the money I possessed and he hated me. When I sat in his place, he walked by and never noticed. He built a foundation that grew into a fortune; and never even mentioned my name. Hatred and anger turns to an internal shame. I give to my source of life while slowly dying.

The tradition is that you reap what you have sewn but my seeds remain planted underground. Am I the prey or the predator? Am I the victim or the vigilante? Is it wrong to be kind? There is a bitterness burning inside of me. I can feel the vibrations. Sick from betrayal and mockery; Injured in the loins. If only I could vomit and rid myself of this torture. Even when I am aware of their intentions, my soul will be compassionate towards them. They laugh at my stupidity. With little effort they strip me of my confidence. My sensitivity is amusing to them. They pour salt on my crown and watch me shrivel as the slug. They poison my sugar and watch me diminish as the pest. What an evil place.

I constantly apologize for bleeding tears, onto their garments. There is an urge to scream. When I speak, not a single one of them can hear. My power is in my slumber. I find strength in the wee hours of the night. I speak to the ones who crossed over. They can see me.