I’m Angry

I’m angry. I’m angry and I’m hurt. I’m hurt by the world around me and the world within myself. I’m angry and I’m hurt , I’m fearful and I’m lost. I’m angry because it hurts and I hurt because I’m so angry.


The world is dark both in my line of sight and in my own personal space. I have to remember that those around me have it so far worse so that makes me s sidelined. I have to wait my turn. The world is ugly and so am I. My thoughts are a lie but they’re my best friend most times. I chose to believe them because it’s the one and only thing I’ve known all my life and any act or word or bit of kindness feels fake, it feels wrong. I’m not worthy of such love, I am not worthy of attention. The world around me is breaking apart at the seams , but so am I. Yet. I must wait my turn.


I feel as though my thoughts don’t matter my actions must be kept secret, my smiles never failing. Laugh a lot, complain a little, say you’re okay just to take some of the pain away. Or make it grow. The scars on my body tell me it’s worth it. Tell me that’s relief, they tell me that it’s addictive and God. It is very addictive.


I wish I spoke as well as I wrote, I could vent more to people, could tell the ones I love know I hurt, but I’m so afraid. Afraid of the anger, afraid of the hurt, afraid of the disappointment and afraid of the rejection. It’s all a lie I know this to be true but in my head and in my ugly thoughts and my heart , it’s too weak. It’s too scary, too vulnerable and too plain. Won’t it be the worst of me? It’s like looking at the bottom of a pool and you know there is a bottom, but you’re afraid to jump in. What if there is no bottom? What if you sink.


I wish for people I can’t have and drive away those who I wish to keep. My mother can’t look into the eyes of a son she doesn’t want. My friends come and go and that’s just life I guess, but the more I hurt and the more I talk, the more I’m angry and the more they start drifting away like sailboats just over the horizon. I can barely see them. Maybe I should be alone , maybe with my thoughts or not at all. Maybe the people I love and the people I see they just tolerate me or maybe not at all. Maybe it’s pity , maybe it’s not but again. Maybe these are all just lies, really.


I’m not afraid of death but of the act itself, I’m afraid of what can happen after and what will become of what I’ve left behind, but maybe just maybe I won’t leave behind a lot. Things can get taken care of, my cat can have a home without worry and maybe. Life will just go on.


It’s like my thoughts won’t come out in words off paper and if they did would anyone listen? I feel overworked, stressed beyond my stretching point and lost of hope for the better world to come, yet I’m trying to keep my head above water, trying to swim, trying to breathe a little more each day. Trying to be human, trying to be loving. Trying to be helpful, to be a friend and be selfless above all else. Drowning is evident, I know that to be true and if I were to dip my head under the cold, calming waters what would that do?


Will I be here tomorrow, or there the next day? Will I have a comfortable place to lay my head each night without worry of where to go next? Can I live happily, can I be peaceful with myself, can I just … live for one day?


There are few I keep in my heart I love them so much but why? Why! Am I afraid so much to speak my kind and talk to them and open up? Maybe it’s the nagging, maybe it’s the negativity, but my God it’s the depression I scream every single day. I get up every day and wonder what I am worth, where is my life going, and who am I to anyone? Can I get through this chore, can I make that phone call today, will the depressive episodes and the constant chronic physical pain cease for just maybe a moment?! If I ask for help, is it a bother, will I be annoying or will they see me as weak? Do they want to help me, does anyone look through my viewfinder or maybe it’s just politeness , maybe just so.


The world around us is so bleak and my world alone is no match against it. My problems are merely a pebble but is the biggest rock I carry on my shoulder, day after day , wondering where I can leave it or when I can start chipping at it until it ceases to exist completely. We live in dark times and I’m reminded of how small I am. How my worries, my fears, my complaints and my own understanding of pain isn’t worth speaking up against. Maybe it’ll pass. Maybe a good day will happen or two, and I can forget about it for a while. Maybe I can replace my jars with new ones and keep stocking up until my closet is too full. Maybe nobody will notice. Can I forget and let my voice be heard in other ways for other people. Be there for all, a friend to some, and a parental guidance to others. Be the shoulder, be the lover. Don’t fight it, it’s what you’re made for. It’s why you’re here. It’s who you are.


If I could be more open, I would be more free, but the daily routine of my head just won’t allow it to happen. I’m afraid of myself, I’m afraid of my voice and more often than not I’m afraid of my demons and letting them out but sometimes they’re my best friends and worst enemy all in one so what then! What happens then ?


You fake it to make it in the world you live in the one around you and the one you keep hidden. Maybe you’re more open than I am and for that I can commend you, but for the rest of us who deal with the black shadows in the corner, the monsters who hold our hands, and the past we keep locked in search of some closure or change, please! I beg you don’t forget us. We are all fighting a battle , and you  never  know just when the last one will be.


So yes. I am angry. I am angry and I am sad. And above all else before, I have the right to be these things. My emotions are valid and my feelings are true. I don’t want to be ashamed for this but I don’t want to seem selfish or rude. I’m hurt in the worst ways , my scars bearable my naked eye and those with a listening ear. They’re visible unto myself and heard like your favorite song played over. And over. And over again. It might be wrong, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak. It doesn’t mean I should go unnoticed and it doesn’t mean that I should play pretend.


But in a world such as this and a world of your own personal accordance. Isn’t it easier to do so?


I am angry and I’m hurt. I’m sad and I am defeated. I stand up every day with the same old sword and a new fight. It’s a guess to who will win but for now, it seems that I may have the winning tally. That doesn’t make me any more inspiring. It doesn’t make me any less hurt , or angry , or lost. 


I am angry and I’m hurt. I am sad and I am afraid. And for now, that’s a comfort I know best. Sad but true to words, and true of heart. There’s nothing else I know right now, and that is not any one person’s fault. It’s okay to feel, and it’s okay to be. It’s okay to stand up and fight, it’s okay to have a voice.


Unfortunately, as it stands, sometimes it tends to be a little easier for some than others.



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